They do. Here’s what happened:
True story. I was running along the river underneath the FDR, minding my own business, when suddenly *WHACK* Right. Between. The. Eyes. A
giant rock tiny pebble smacked me in the forehead, leaving me stunned and standing in the middle of the sidewalk furiously rubbing my head, searching for blood. No blood (hooray!). I jogged home, hoping I wouldn’t have a gigantic bruise on my face that would leave me explaining my story to everyone so they wouldn’t think something bad about Justin, and ran to the mirror to assess the damage. Nada. A little red spot, but no more worse for the wear. It did get me thinking, though. Here are my thoughts.
I fall down, trip, and get generally sick-feeling occasionally when I run. Don’t you? I mean, even sometimes? Well, when I go out and run I sometimes run to Brooklyn or over the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey (what’s up, Jersey!) and anywhere else my little heart desires. Problem is, if something happens to me and I’m not able to communicate with paramedics or passersby who find me, they wouldn’t know who I am or who I belong to. Scary, right?
That’s why I love my Road ID (shameless plug, but I was definitely NOT compensated for this post or given any free schwag). It’s $20 and has all the pertinent information on it that one might need if I end up on the side of the road somewhere. Given that I have a medical condition that can sometimes sideline me during a run, this little velcro/stainless steel wonder might just save my life one day. I even bought one for my husband because here’s the thing: there are dozens of hospitals in this city and if I ended up in one, these are the three people I’d want notified right away. I can’t imagine my poor husband pacing in our tiny little apartment, worried sick because I didn’t come home from a run. This makes us both feel better about going for a solo run in our big, bad city. And seriously, it’s tiny and weighs nothing.
Some of you might not know the story of Trisha Meili, the Central Park Jogger. Back in 1989 in New York City, Trisha went for a run in Central Park shortly after 9 p.m. Hours later, two men wandering the park found her near death from a brutal beating and rape. In a coma, with 75 percent blood loss, a fierce blow to the head and severe exposure, doctors worried that this young woman might not survive and they didn’t even know her name. For days they couldn’t identify her or let her family know she was alive. If she’d had a Road ID, it might have been a different story.
*PS. Trisha is an active volunteer with the Achilles Track Club and her book, I AM THE CENTRAL PARK JOGGER: A Story of Hope and Possibility inspired the Hope and Possibility 5 miler I am running this Sunday. Come on out and join us!*
If that isn’t a case for you to spend $20 for a Road ID tag or some other form of identification, I don’t know what is. Just click the link and get it. They even have this cool interactive feature that allows the doctors or whomever is working on you to go to a link that brings up your ID page (and whatever you choose to put on it) to better treat you or contact your next of kin. How modern are we?! Here’s the link:
So, buy your new tag. I promise that I will stop mothering you about leaving a note telling people where you are going or when you should be expected back. Need more coaxing? Watch 127 Hours and then try and tell me it will never happen to you. That’s what they all say…
Now go out and run (before it rains)!