An Open Letter to Motorists with Complete Disregard for Crosswalks

First of all, let me start this by saying, I’ve been there. There’s that important meeting/appointment/errand where if you do not get there on time, you’ll be fired/rescheduled/killed immediately, and you were walking out the door with minutes to spare, and realized your child has a fecal-filled diaper/the dog needs let out/you need to print off the coupon/you forgot to put on clothing, so you get out the door a second time with exactly three minutes to get to the desired establishment that is fifteen miles away. You spend the entire drive simultaneously praying to God and swearing at every moving object that looks as if it might threaten your record-breaking travel time, sweating bullets as your stomach turns in knots at the potential consequences of your tardiness.

Yeah. I’ve been there.

There is a time, though, when the stress of getting to your particular destination becomes an issue that affects others more than the occasional bird you might flip at the person who honked at you for cutting them off.

No. The issue spreads more when you approach crosswalks.

You know, crosswalks? Those designated spaces that lie perpendicular to the direction of traffic that allow pedestrians to also get from point A to point B? Usually they have a large yellow sign to accompany them, or perhaps a stop light. I feel it necessary to identify what these are and what they do, because it seems you choose to ignore them. 

I recognize fully that we live in a day and age where no one walks. We are not a physically active society anymore. It is easy to become lazy, complacent, and simply assume that you can blow through the painted white lines to see if there is any oncoming traffic before you make your right turn. 

I can also understand a little bit more when I’m running solo. Sure, I’ve usually got a bright pink running top on, and my shoes are screaming yellow, but it’s the summer. I could be a large, obnoxious flower. However, the blatant disregard for human life is a little more enraging when I am also accompanied by a bright yellow double jogger the size of a Buick containing my two freakishly adorable children. 

Seriously. The thing is a boat. I have a slightly inappropriate love for BOB and the strollers they create, but they aren’t so good that they make their strollers magically inconspicuous when they’re hauling two children.

So when you are in your mad dash to get your hair did, take a pause before blowing through that stop sign to ensure you aren’t about to bulldoze a Mommy Running with her tiny, adorable children. They’re learning the awesomeness of being physically active. Don’t also teach them that you’re a negligent turd.