In my mid-forties, I’m aware of the ongoing tension between cyclists and motorists on the streets. Cyclists often lament the lack of attention from drivers, the close calls that feel almost intentional, a source of fear rather than a mode of transportation.
But my journey has taken a different turn, or rather, a different pace. Just over two years ago, I began running. What struck me immediately was the contrasting experience I encountered on the residential streets around my home. Motorists, who could have been impatient or indifferent, instead displayed a remarkable courtesy. They shifted aside, creating a buffer for me to pass safely.
Yet, it was at intersections that the magic truly unfolded.
Almost without fail, drivers would offer a simple gesture – a wave, a nod, a knowing smile. These actions conveyed an unspoken message: “Keep your momentum, I’ll wait.” In those fleeting moments, a shared understanding blossomed. The road, usually a realm of conflicts, transformed into a stage for a silent collaboration between runner and driver. It was a choreography of kindness, an improvised performance that brightened my runs and infused positivity into my day.
What makes it even more interesting and peculiar is that motorists are not known to stop at pedestrian crossings in my area. When I attempt to cross a street while wearing my suit, I fear they will run me over. However, when I’m dressed in my shorts and running shoes, they stop, wait, and gesture for me to cross.
These intersections became my favorite part of the run. The brief encounters with strangers transcended the mundane. As I approached an intersection, I would steal a glance at the driver, and often, a friendly acknowledgment would pass between us. In that instant, I wasn’t just a runner crossing a road – I was a participant in a small yet significant ritual, a reminder that in the midst of our busy lives, there’s room for consideration and connection.
The beauty of these interactions was their universality. Whether on quiet lanes or bustling avenues, the conduct of these courteous drivers remained consistent. It was a testament to the power of simple gestures, an affirmation that empathy could thrive in unexpected places.
Each morning, tying my shoelaces, I felt an anticipation, a hope to encounter these moments of shared humanity. It was a subtle reminder that in a world often rushing forward, we could still slow down and acknowledge one another. These moments weren’t planned or orchestrated – they were spontaneous, genuine, and heartwarming.
I don’t know why there is such a disconnection between my reality and that of cyclists. But one thing is for sure: I am incredibly grateful for the uniqueness of my own reality
I knew that I was now part of the runners’ tribe. It looks like I’m also part of our collective humanity.