Headlamps are a problem for runners -- not the runners who have them but the runners who don't.
We run at 6 a.m. on Saturdays and most of the year it is fairly dark.
The trail meanders along the Scioto River, but roads are nearby and street lamps or porch lights provide peripheral light. Then don't forget the ghostly moon and the sparkling stars. We can usually see the dark strip of asphalt in front of us well enough.
Until a runner comes along with a headlamp.
I'm sure you've all seen them, those obnoxious lights that glare out of people's heads like a cyclops eye. The problems are two-fold: Number one if I'm running toward someone with a headlamp, I'm blinded.. I can't see a thing. The runner could be a Mack truck coming toward me. I think the headlamp would be a great idea for someone lurking waiting to abduct someone because it would blind the person being abducted.
The second problem is that the bright light lingers after the headlamp wearer has passed on. My eyes need to adjust again to the dark as I search out the trial, which was perfectly visible before I was blinded by the headlamp wearer.
My friend Pam was the first one to complain about the headlamp wearers.
We tried shunning them, refusing to say hello to headlamp wearers when we ran. We'd even look away to try to save our vision.
Then Saturday, in the dark and the swirling fog, Pam showed up wearing a headlamp.
"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," she said.
So we ran a bit with the headlamp like a spotlight in front of us.
I decided that whoever had a story to tell should run in front in the spotlight, but that took too much effort.
Then I tried jumping into the spotlight and singing:
"Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putterBut it's surprising how much breath it takes to sing and run at the same time.
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade"
Then Naj suggested Pam turn off the light. So she did. And we could see fine.
We ran the rest of the way complaining about those people with their headlamps.