Sunday, January 3, 2010

Aren't Ya Afraid of Getting Hit By a Truck?

I really wasn't looking forward my run today.  It had snowed about 12" the night before, and I envisioned a slippery and slushy 8 miles on Route 201.  But I knew I would regret not getting these miles in, and as always, the hardest 5 steps were the ones out the door.  Within minutes, I was in Caratunk running bliss, enjoying the beautiful snowy Kennebec River and dodging the spray from the oncoming log trucks. 

As I neared mile 2.5, I checked out the parking lot of Northern Outdoors, a local sporting lodge and white water rafting outfitter.  I made eye contact with a little blond lady with her mouth open, holding her car door, blankly staring at me running by.  This isn't all that unusual for me, I get the same sort of look when I am swimming across Wyman Lake in May, although usually I have a friend in a safety boat to explain, "She is a triathlete."  This simple explanation seems to satisfy most who are curious.

Since none of my friends were around to explain my foolishness, I waved politely and said hello to the confused looking lady.  She hollered out to me in her sweet southern accent, "Honey, aren't you afraid you are going to get hit by a truck?"  I kind of laughed and hollered back, "I never really thought about it."  Her head followed me as I ran by, and the last thing I heard from her was, "Well, you should!"

This exchange entertained me for the rest of the run, and on my return I was disappointed that she wasn't still in the parking lot mouth agape, shocked that I survived so long running on Route 201.

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