And the winner for Biggest Douchebag of the Year goes to: the random jogger that, for reasons still unknown, shoved me while doing a track stand at a stoplight.
It's now been a solid 12 hours since noted incident took place, and I still can't seem to figure out what exactly happened. Let's recount...
I was nearing the end of the ride along Summit. I pulled up to the intersection at Lexington and patiently waited for the light to cycle. I could see the opposing traffic light turn yellow, then red, and started to put some pressure into the pedals to push forward as my light turned green. Sometime in this moment I felt a solid "thwack" across the back of my rib cage. I thought at first another biker had run into me, because I was squarely in the bike lane. I fell forward a little and popped out of my pedals. I looked up and saw the culprit — a jogger. A jogger? I've had assorted objects thrown at me from cars, I've had cars run me off the road, I once had a car open a door and try and slam on the brakes to cause me to ride into it, and I've almost been doored the "traditional way" a few times too, but I've never actually been hit by a pedestrian. Thus was the story of Second 1.
Second 2 is a little bit of a blur. I watched the jogger run off. I debated if I should chase him down the sidewalk, or continue down the bike lane. Every violent act I could think of ran through my head in this second. "Could I sprint at him down the sidewalk and tackle him, but not get hurt?". Stupid options, and lots of them. Adrenaline does weird things.
Seconds 3 - 7 found me opting for the bike lane. I was still angry though. I rolled up along him and let him know how I felt. I also asked why he just ran into me, without any acknowledgement that he had just done that. He invited me to fight on the sidewalk. Continuing from Second 2 many more violent acts ran through my head. "Do I have anything hard I could throw at this guy?!?". Thankfully I didn't. I thanked him, but declined his offer to fight on the sidewalk, offering up instead instructions on a few things he could do to himself.
Second 8 passed and I rolled away. I "waved goodbye" and continued on my ride. It's in these later moments that the adrenaline really starts to flow. All I could think about was that there must be something I could do. It wasn't like he did anything that bad, but he had been a pretty big a-hole. Many more stupid options ran through my head. The reality slowly sank in that there isn't, wasn't, and won't be anything that I could do. Assembling a posse, as inticing an option, would still accomplish nothing.
Seconds 9 - 300 crept by as I rounded out the ride. I took the "switchbacks of St. Paul" down to the bottom of the Ramsey Hill. I ended up going up Grand, and realized when I hit the top that I hadn't felt any real pain the entire climb. Slowly the adrenaline would subside, but it hadn't yet.
Thankfully it has now, but I still find myself wondering: "what exactly happened?". I checked out google maps to see if I could see the intersection. Maybe I had rolled out in front of him? I looked as closely as I could, and all it seemed to show was that this guy must have intentionally come out into the bike lane. I hadn't cut him off that I can see, and no matter what happened, a simple wave after the fact would have let me know he didn't mean anything by it. I don't understand why there's this weird aggression towards cyclists. Every time it happens I swear I'm going to get something that will somehow deter people from pulling stunts like this, but in the end, there's nothing really one can do. Cars will always be bigger and faster than a bike, and there's not a whole lot you can do to avoid weirdo pedestrians.
What do you think? What are the options?
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4 comments:
I think you have to start packin', Ya know?
Seriously though, that is the funniest thing I have ever read. I read it out loud to Quan and we were both laughing our asses off.
Wow, that's wild. Adrenaline DOES do weird things, but you were smart.
If you had come to find me, I would have been in your posse, and we could have done stupid things together towards this fella.
A beatdown stick to the kneecap would make sure that jogger knew how much of an a-hole he was. You have to inform people like that, y'know?
sweet, you guys are all automatically inducted into my posse, as of right now. i'll keep you posted on meeting times, agreed-upon posse swagger style, and so forth.
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