The following is a true story. Unfortunately, there are witnesses…:roll:
Like-minded spring breakers, snowbirds, and locals all swarmed the coast today to enjoy the cobalt sky and the warm temperatures, With high tide and crowded beaches making a shoreline run tricky and the public roads to dangerous to traverse, the idea of a quiet road in the nearby national park seemed like a perfect oasis to put five miles behind me.
Cheerful and ready to go, I was back in my favorite running gear - compression shorts and tank with enough support to keep a bridge standing. Despite the reflection in the side mirror of my blindingly winter-white skin, I stretched everything that ached, brushed off my self-consciousness and took off with nothing but a few cars and trucks between me and the horizon.
This park road is a gem - barely known and part of much larger chain of parks that stretch for a hundred miles. In advance of spring, road repairs, and improvements were once again underway after damage from last year’s hurricane. Even though a few places were roped off, there was an occasional puddle of rusty clay, and barrels here and there narrowed the road, nothing was obstructive enough to making running difficult. In a half mile, I slipped into a steady rhythm and a zone of pure pleasure.
As runners tend to be keenly aware of traffic behind them and in every other direction, I heard the truck well before it approached. Even though I was running against traffic, the road was narrow, so I instinctively turned my head just as it came rumbling up behind me. In a moment of exquisite perfection, when all the demons, goblins, and likely curse of a long ago boyfriend lined up, the front driver-side tire hit a puddle of rusty water in the a wave that covered me, head to toe, with muddy water like a the spray of an elephant.
In complete shock, I came to a stop about as fast as the driver who jumped out of the truck, apologizing like he had just killed my dog. Drenched and dripping, my shock turned to near hysterical laughter as I realized that I looked something like the Phantom of the Opera with one side of me neat as a pin, and the other like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. While I was waving off the driver, telling him I was fine and just wanting to get out of there, he reached in the back of his truck for a towel and crossed the road to hand it to me.
In the meantime, kind good samaritans a few yards away were simultaneously offering help and stifling laughter, not quite knowing what to do. I accepted the towel began to dry myself off. Embarrassed with laughing exchanges with the people around me, I was too distracted to notice…
Unbelievably, the towel had white paint on it, which I was smearing in wide swaths into my hair, along my face and down my side….
The onlookers, sure I was going to blow, began to back away. In complete, stunned horror, the driver just stood there, staring at me - http://www.pic4ever.com/images/eek5.gif
a frightening mess with soaking wet hair, half-covered in mud, and smeared with white paint. http://www.pic4ever.com/images/25r30wi.gif
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
I had to skip my run for a slightly-needed shower.
(Edited for typos, there are probably more;-)).