Day two of my bid to run every day of 2016 may have been my last had I not practiced extreme defensive running. This was my routine during the 10K scamper down to the beach: Get to crosswalk, wait for walk signal, raise arm to point to where I’m crossing, look over my shoulder to make sure no one’s turning right on a red. I even make eye contact with any driver in proximity to ensure he sees me. And yet with all of that, two motorists — while making eye contact with me and seeming to indicate they would yield to MY RIGHT to cross — actually turned on red lights and sped up through crosswalks, forcing me to leap back. What kind of driver intentionally forces a walker/runner off a crosswalk? Really? Seriously? Today’s run was in Ft Lauderdale, a city full of shuffling retirees for gad sakes. But as is so often the case with drivers who seem enraged by the sight of runners, both offenders were white 50-plus men. Times like this I fantasize about firing a paint gun full of putrid green paint onto the vehicle. Or perhaps it should be blood red.