The main north-south bike path that runs through Albuquerque sits next a large, concrete drainage ditch. The ditch is there to shuttle water out of the streets and down to the Rio Grande when the summer monsoons drop buckets at a time.

To make sure bikers don’t go tumbling into the ditch, the city put up a metal fence that runs the entire length. This is just a normal fence, but I pay close attention every time I ride by because it’s become a favorite perch for the local roadrunner population.

I have nothing against the roadrunner. They’re tough-as-nails birds that regularly kill and eat rattlesnakes, scorpions and black widows. They’re also our state bird and beautiful little creatures.

They have, however, become a bit of a menace. Every time you fly by they feel the need to jump off and run across the path in front of you. They’re wicked fast, so they always make it across, but there have been a couple close calls. More than once I’ve grabbed a handful of brake and shouted, fearing I would hit the damn thing and go tumbling off my bike.

I don’t stay up worrying about these creatures, but they do creep into my ride every day. I’m not panic-stricken, but I can’t claim to be fearless either. I’m hoping we’ll eventually get into more of rhythm. Me keeping my cadence steady whenever I see one, and them knowing to stay clear.

If you’re ever in Albuquerque and you hear some guy shouting wildly as he rolls down the path, you’ll know that’s just me talking to the birds.