Patty Cline, she sang it: I go out walking, after midnight, out in the moonlight . . . . I walk for miles, along the highway . . .
Me, I don't walk after midnight much, but I do walk after dark. Not in the starlight, but in the lamplight. And also I walk (and run) before the sun comes up. So I think a lot about walking and running in the dark.
One of the things my friends around here think is how much safer it feels to walk in a city than in the country. It's kind of backwards from what people usually say about cities and danger. But for my friends, they feel like if there's a threatening person approaching here in the city, at least they're in a place where there are a lot of other people around to help. When my buddy TL went running along rural roads near her in-laws' home, in contrast, whenever she saw a lone person heading toward her, she thought to herself, "If that person decides to attack me, I'm all alone and no one around will hear me."
For us, the main danger in the dark is cars. Drivers, man. They're kind of scary.
When I was in college, there was a country in the Middle East (I honestly don't remember which one) that decided to solve the problem of women being attacked at night by imposing a curfew on women. If women don't go out after dark, the government argued, they won't be attacked. Newspapers reported that the women responded that a much more just solution would be to impose a curfew on men. (Of course, all of this ignores the fact that a huge part of violence against women happens in the home, . . . I'm just talking here about what I remember the newspapers of the time writing about)>
For me, I feel like there's a weird parallel between that story, with women and men in whatever place that was, and my own situation, with pedestrians and cars in the United States. If it's dangerous for pedestrians to cross the street after dark because cars can't see them, maybe we should just ban cars after dark. If a hilly neighborhood refuses to get sidewalks, then pedestrians should own the streets while the sun is down, and cars should be allowed back into the neighborhood only between sunrise and sunset.
(I don't really think that banning cars after dark is a feasible solution, but I like pretending to consider it, because it helps me think about lots of things in the world in a different way).
But since cars keep driving around where I'm trying to walk or run, instead, I try to glow. I have become enamored of a company called "Lightweights" that sells reflective iron-on tape. I've bought a yards and yards of the tape, and I cut it up and gift pieces to my friends; I make myself decorations for the heels of my boots, for the cuffs of my coat, for my running mittens, for the toes and sides and backs of my running shoes.
Here's a pro-tip about being visible to automobiles, taught to me by a psychologist who spent his career studying night vision of motorists:
I like reflectors more than lights because, when I'm walking or running, I don't actually need extra light to see. The street lamps and stars (or reflection from clouds) is really good enough for me to get around, so why carry a light? The reflective tape lights up for cars (who can't otherwise see pedestrians easily at night) but they don't annoy other pedestrians (who have better night vision, so who can see me regardless, but aren't likely to run me over whether or not they see me).
Even more, if I have reflectors on, I don't need to hold anything in my hands, or remember to charge things. I don't even have to remember the reflectors themselves, because they're already always there, taped on. I just put on my clothes, which happen to have reflective tape ironed on them, and go run with my friends.
Me, I don't walk after midnight much, but I do walk after dark. Not in the starlight, but in the lamplight. And also I walk (and run) before the sun comes up. So I think a lot about walking and running in the dark.
One of the things my friends around here think is how much safer it feels to walk in a city than in the country. It's kind of backwards from what people usually say about cities and danger. But for my friends, they feel like if there's a threatening person approaching here in the city, at least they're in a place where there are a lot of other people around to help. When my buddy TL went running along rural roads near her in-laws' home, in contrast, whenever she saw a lone person heading toward her, she thought to herself, "If that person decides to attack me, I'm all alone and no one around will hear me."
For us, the main danger in the dark is cars. Drivers, man. They're kind of scary.
When I was in college, there was a country in the Middle East (I honestly don't remember which one) that decided to solve the problem of women being attacked at night by imposing a curfew on women. If women don't go out after dark, the government argued, they won't be attacked. Newspapers reported that the women responded that a much more just solution would be to impose a curfew on men. (Of course, all of this ignores the fact that a huge part of violence against women happens in the home, . . . I'm just talking here about what I remember the newspapers of the time writing about)>
For me, I feel like there's a weird parallel between that story, with women and men in whatever place that was, and my own situation, with pedestrians and cars in the United States. If it's dangerous for pedestrians to cross the street after dark because cars can't see them, maybe we should just ban cars after dark. If a hilly neighborhood refuses to get sidewalks, then pedestrians should own the streets while the sun is down, and cars should be allowed back into the neighborhood only between sunrise and sunset.
(I don't really think that banning cars after dark is a feasible solution, but I like pretending to consider it, because it helps me think about lots of things in the world in a different way).
But since cars keep driving around where I'm trying to walk or run, instead, I try to glow. I have become enamored of a company called "Lightweights" that sells reflective iron-on tape. I've bought a yards and yards of the tape, and I cut it up and gift pieces to my friends; I make myself decorations for the heels of my boots, for the cuffs of my coat, for my running mittens, for the toes and sides and backs of my running shoes.
Here's a pro-tip about being visible to automobiles, taught to me by a psychologist who spent his career studying night vision of motorists:
Reflective vests make a person visible, but not identifiable: it's hard for motorists to distinguish between a person and, say, a traffic barrel merely from the glow of a reflective [something] on your chest or back. Instead, small reflectors on your joints ---elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles--- are much more effective.You can see a bit what I mean by checking out this video (2 minutes long). At about 1:16 in the video, a runner comes into view. You can really see it's a person because of the way the arms and legs move. The reflective V in the middle of the person's chest doesn't even have to be there.
Movie with reflective tape on kayaks, bikes, and runners
Even more, if I have reflectors on, I don't need to hold anything in my hands, or remember to charge things. I don't even have to remember the reflectors themselves, because they're already always there, taped on. I just put on my clothes, which happen to have reflective tape ironed on them, and go run with my friends.
And as the skies turns gloomy, night winds whisper to me,
I'm lit up as I can be.
I go out walkin, after midnight . . .
a-hoping you may be
somewhere a walkin' after midnight,
searching for me.
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