Cruising along, blissfully disconnected from the world, with only the occasional lucid thought bubbling to the surface of a vast and churning ocean of subliminal thought, the semi came as something of a shock to the system.
In and of itself, the semi wasn't particularly noteworthy.
In and of itself, the run wasn't particularly noteworthy.
In and of itself, the intersection wasn't particularly noteworthy.
The confluence was.
...or at least seemed to be...
Objectively, the semi was simply going through the daily grind of doing the job for which it was intended, and in similar fashion, the run was simply another part of the daily grind of training.
But subjectively, the semi was as out of place in my little world of running as I assume I was in its little world of work.
Barreling down a hill, turning a corner, and relishing in the ease and flow of the run, the semi waiting at the intersection simply served to snap me back into reality. The minor trajectory adjustment that resulted in a slight break in stride threw me out of rhythm for the remainder of the run.
It seems almost petty to allow such a passive aspect of the route have such a profound effect, but in another sense, perhaps this particular aspect of running is quite profound and, too often, only has passive effects.