Share the Road!

This past weekend I joined a few of my wine club and triathlon training friends for an impromptu getaway in the Outer Banks. Since an important workout was planned for the weekend, I hitched Amarone and TRIgirl DL’s bike onto the back of my car and kept my fingers crossed that they wouldn’t fly off during the three hour trip.

The schedule for Saturday’s workout was an hour bike, followed by an 8-10 mile run. A quiet “beach road” ran parallel to the main road and appeared to have a nice shoulder. Heading out, we realized that by riding on the side closest to the ocean, we would miss most intersections and not have to worry about traffic lights.

It felt great to be on the bike. First, because after three months of spinning on an indoor trainer, being outside was such a pleasure - cruising past quaint beach homes and glimpses of the ocean. Second, because after three months of spinning on an indoor trainer, riding on a flat road, without the added resistance of a trainer, felt effortless. Even with a strong crosswind, we maintained an easy to moderate exertion level – at a pace that was somewhere between 16-17 miles per hour.

After a half hour, we turned around, still staying on the ocean side of the road, though now we were going against traffic. In the distance, I noticed a wide RV approaching. As he got closer, I waited for him to move over. But he didn’t. He kept on charging down the road, hanging over the lane and the shoulder. I had two choices – to cross over the other side of the street or to move further into the shoulder, where the dunes had overflowed excess sand. I chose the dunes. As RV man sped by – I could feel the breeze from his extra large vehicle whizzing by. Then I noticed I was in deep sand and my back tire was skidding out. A few seconds later I was on the ground.

After picking myself back up, I started to get angry. Did RV man not see me? Was he trying to teach me a lesson? Did he think I was on a mountain bike and could handle the dunes? My knee was split open and I had an impressive six inch road rash on my shin, but overall, I felt OK and resumed riding, trying to shake off the fall. Ironically, a mile or two down from the mishap, a sign was posted with a picture of a bicycle and the message “Share the Road.”

Yeah – RV man – guess you didn’t see that sign? Share the road!

About a mile or two from the house, TRIgirl DL got a flat – so I finished the rest of ride by myself to get the car and pick her up. As I put the bike rack on the trunk, I noticed my hand was feeling jammed up and a throbbing bump was appearing on my right outer thigh.

After cleaning out the sand and grime, TRIgirls DL, LD and I started the run. At first, I felt pretty good, telling myself that moving would keep the blood flowing. After about three miles, I started to slow down a bit. After six and a half, I started feeling lightheaded and very dehydrated. I walked a bit till I found an open store - a hair salon - where I grabbed some water. I felt a little better, and pushed myself to finish the 10 miles, jogging for a little over 8 total, at a sloooow pace.

I spent some time mulling over why I felt so miserable on the run - worse than I had in a long time. I had really wanted to run the full 10 miles – but just didn’t have it in me. Could the blood accumulating in the scabs and bumps drained me? Did the adrenalin rush from the fall wear me out? Did I just not drink enough water? Were the antibiotics I had started taking to finish off the lingering chest cold wreaking havoc with my system? Some combination of the above?

Regardless, I was just happy the workout was over. I took a long shower and wondered what RV man would have done if we had been riding with the traffic. Would he have moved over or would we be hanging off the side of his camper like squashed bugs?

What would it have taken to get him to share the road?