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| Favourite spots from my running route |
“Say ‘yes’ to drugs!”
The whole Microbiology class chuckled as our professor made this
challenge with great enthusiasm. As I laughed, a little extra glee trickled in,
mixed with pride. Because recently, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to drugs—and I’m
loving it.
Now. to you who are growing concerned, thinking, “She’s only
been in a secular college for a few weeks and she’s already gone off the deep
end!” you can relax. The “drugs” we were discussing were hormones—endorphins
being released during and after vigorous exercise. My professor, Dr. Wollert,
was asking if any of us had ever been addicted to exercise.
“Anyone? Really? This isn’t a bad thing… seriously? None of
you. I have a class of couch potatoes, I see. Come on, it’s great! You get done
and suddenly all these endorphins are kicking in and you’re just like, ‘ah yea!
This is great! I’m like high right now!’ This is a good thing—say ‘yes’ to
drugs!”
I’ve been running more and more over the past year. I
started out small, only being able to do about a mile. Then I started
consistently running 1.5 miles. Then I bumped it up to 3.1 sometime over my
last semester at school. However, running a 5k in Florida is NOT the same thing
as running a 5k in Tennessee. Where I live here, in TN, it’s all hills. My
neighbourhood is like a rolling tide, with barely a flat space to be seen. Besides,
down to the cul-de-sac and back is only about a mile. If I wanted to do 3.1, I’d
have to do three repetitive runs of nothing but excruciating hills. No thank
you. One day I tried a different route, bravely leaving my neighbourhood, and
found that it’s about 1.5 miles down to a local airfield (one of the little
ones for little, privately owned planes). The route has hills, but they are
relatively scattered, gradual, and not nearly as vicious. The only bad ones are
the one leaving my neighbourhood at the beginning of the run, and the one
leading back up to that one when I am coming back. I quickly worked my way up
to being able to run the whole thing (all-in-all it’s about 3.1-3.2), and now
I’m working on shaving seconds off my time. My times are still longer than they
were in FL, but that doesn’t bother me at all, because I’m working way harder than I was there (FL is
flatter than a pancake, and I was right at sea level. Running was a breeze).
And the more I run, the more I love it and the more I want to do it. Not
necessarily always during the
run—sometimes I just want to be DONE. But right after I finish, and as my
breathing staggers its way back to normalcy, I begin to feel stronger, greater.
The endorphins that sustained me as I finished are now running rampage through
my resting body, making me feel glorious. The sense of accomplishment. The
hormones. It’s wonderful. No matter how good or bad my time is, as long as I
don’t quit, I feel like a superhero when I’m done. And I want to feel that
again. When I’m feeling lazy the next day or just don’t feel like taking the
time out to run, I remember that feeling. I want it. So I run. I wouldn’t say
I’m addicted, but I definitely understand the feeling. The desire to reach that
high again. And I just get the little one that comes with a 5K—I can’t imagine
how euphoric those marathon runners’ highs feel like!
“And Lord, please be with (insert name) and help them. Uh.
Life. And. Be with (insert same name), because. Uh. please be with (same
name).”
You see. It really gets nowhere. I applaud and envy all you
who can have special prayer times during your workouts. Really, I do. I just
can’t focus my mind like that.
So running is basically 30 minutes of going. Pushing.
Thinking random thoughts: mostly escape plans of “what would happen if someone
tried to abduct me right here?” or “I really like this field. It’s pretty. It
distracts me from the fact that I’m running uphill right now… no. don’t think
about the uphill. Pretty field. Think pretty field.”
That’s just about as deep as my mid-run mind gets. Actually,
I get a lot of first paragraphs of potential blog posts mentally written during
some downhills. Obviously, they don’t often develop. Nor do I often remember
them afterwards.
However, running has given me more than happy drugs and a
sense of accomplishment. It has let me see goodness in random people.
Running as a young lady can be a little intimidating. I
don’t usually feel particularly intimidated, but I’m always afraid someone is
going to tell me I can’t anymore because it’s “not safe” or something. I’m not
stupid or naïve, so I do try to practice good runners’ safety. And, as
previously mentioned, probably at least 40% of my rambling runner thoughts are
epic escape plans for if I were to be attacked at any given moment (another 5%
goes to the thoughts of “Good glory breathing is rough right now—would I even
be able to scream?” A question that was answered the day that, despite the fact
that I was taxed from just running a steep hill, I unintentionally screamed
when a dog behind a fence surprised me. It was out before I realized what I was
doing, almost making me doubt whether or not I had actually screamed. My
strained vocal cords, however, assured me that I had). Yea, I am extremely wary
of the cars that pass me. And people (though I rarely ever pass people aside
from the ones mowing their lawns). However, there have been some occurrences
that, though I was in no danger, the caution that other people had for my
safety reminded me that, while there is danger of running alone (there’s
potential danger in basically everything we do, honestly), and there are
creepers out there, there are also nice people out there.
The first experience was right in front of my house at the
very end of my run. The final stretch for me is going down a big hill at the
entrance of my neighbourhood, sprinting the flat space in front of my house,
then turning up into my driveway. On my descent, this certain day, our
neighbour’s dog, Mo, decided to come out and remind me of her existence. I got
to the place where I would normally sprint, but Mo was RIGHT there. RIGHT next
to me. Barking and nudging up to me. She likes to run after people to begin
with (never hurting, just annoying), and
she just had a litter of puppies. So now she thinks she needs to remind us all
that this is her territory. Like I
said, she never hurts anyone. And her owners were out in their lawn, so I
didn’t really think any harm was going to come to me, but she messed up my
final sprint. And, the whole last stretch, I was pushing her away, saying “no, Mo!
No! Go home!” I got back to my house, the neighbours came and got Mo, and I
began climbing the stairs up to my front door. As I did so, I saw a car drive
slowly down the road with its windows rolled down. It was the same car that had
passed me to leave the subdivision when Mo was pestering me. The man in the
drivers seat leaned his head out and said,
“I’m sorry I did not stop when that dog was bothering you.
Are you okay? I should have stopped.”
I explained that I was fine and she didn’t hurt me. (If
you’re questioning me talking to strangers, he and I were actually quite far
apart, and he was making no move to exit his vehicle—he genuinely was checking
on my safety). After expressing his disapproval of the dog’s owners and
receiving further confirmation on my safety, he left.
He had apologized. Apologized.
Because he hadn’t stopped when he first saw the dog getting all up in my
space. He had obviously felt so guilty that he had turned around at the top of
the hill and drove back, unable to go on when there was a potential dog attack
occurring behind him—one that he could have prevented.
The next one really has nothing to do with safety—it was
just one of those little blessings, being reminded of the beauty and simplicity
of childhood.
It had been a rough run, and I did not feel like braving my last hill. I had opted to run in the
evening, thinking it would be a good time, and letting me get things done
throughout the day. Eh—nope. The roads were busy with people getting back from
work. So not only was I being stopped at intersections, I also had to drink in
these people’s exhaust trails, because who doesn’t want contaminated air when
they’re struggling to breathe to begin with? I thought it would be cooler,
running at 6 p.m. I did not account for the fact that, though the sun was lower
in the sky, it 1) was still beating on me, just from a different angle, and 2)
had been baking the ground all day, so now the heat was coming from above and
below. And lots of people were home, so they were mowing their lawns! Because
there’s nothing like a lung full of allergens as you run. Okay, so I was being
pretty grouchy. And I wanted to just walk my last hill. But I knew that I would
hate myself for it after. But I still wanted to do it. I was debating, still
running, when I passed this house. In the lawn stood these two little boys. One
was probably 6 or so, the other was probably more around 3. He seemed very
young, but apparently old enough to be potty trained, because he was wearing
nothing but some little-boy unders. As I passed, they both smiled and waved,
and one of them, in his high, innocent voice, chipperly called out, “HI!” I
responded with a smile, a wave, and new determination to finish that run.
The most recent occurrence was today. I am usually much too
proud to walk during a run. It almost never happens. I pray (literally) for loss
of consciousness before I am willing to quit. However, today there were
different things interfering with my run, and, honestly, I just wanted more
peace. I wanted a quite walk. I just, didn’t feel like running. It wasn’t that
I was too tired. I just wanted to walk. So, about ¼ way in to the second half
(I had already turned around at the skypark and was heading back home), I
passed this adorable little house. It’s one of my favourite ones to pass. It’s
sweet and quaint—with a not so sweet and quaint “NO TRESSPASSING” sign in the
front lawn. And there are always people about, it seems. I believe grandparents
live there, and their kids and grandkids are often visiting. And if there
aren’t people arriving or leaving as I pass, I usually see the old man in his
screened-in front porch. So they do often see me, as well. I don’t know if
they’ve grown used to seeing me run past twice in a row, or if it was the sight
of a young lady who was obviously just running but now is walking down the road
that triggered their concern. I had just been distracted by some little
creatures in the gutter, so I had slightly mis-stepped and had to regain my
proper footing. Maybe they saw that and thought I was struggling. I don’t know.
But, as I passed the house, a man and his (very) young son were walking out of
the screened-in porch. They stood there in the doorway (quite a distance from
the road where I was), saw me, and called out, “You alright?” I smiled, assured
him I was, and we all three went on our merry little ways.
These little things were so simple. They weren’t
superfluous. They didn’t try to come to me, but respecting the universal
knowledge that someone approaching you as you run by yourself is going to be
taken as a threat, they called out to make sure I was fine. Didn’t pursue.
Didn’t press me when I assured them of my safety. They just checked and went on
their way.
Perhaps you’re more pessimistic than I, and you still see
these as threatening. You may be even questioning whether or not letting me go
out on my own is such a good idea after all.
Or maybe you’re fine, but you see nothing super special
about these small interactions. “So what?” you might think.
But to me, they meant a lot. They weren’t responsible for
me, but still took the responsibility of checking on my safety. They didn’t
pursue me or push me. There was nothing threatening in any of these
interactions. They just showed me that, were I in danger, they would have
helped. Otherwise, they’ll leave me be. People like that aren’t always around.
And I don’t put my trust in the presence of strangers. But being reminded that
there are people out there who, not only won’t bother me, but would help me if
I were to need it—that put a smile to my face. Because what if Mo had attacked,
and his owners weren’t around to notice? That man would have been there to save
me. What if I had passed out on the side of the road in front of that family’s
house? Someone would have been there to pull me off the street.
We expect everyone to be an enemy—sometimes that keeps us
safe. Because there are people who
will take advantage of weakness. Even ones that will feign hospitality so that
they can get your guard down and get at you. But it’s good to be reminded that
not everyone is terrible. There are people, random people, who not only aren’t
going to hurt you, but are willing to help you if they needed to.
And when you mix happy hormones with hospitality, you get
one encouraged runner.
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| It's important to remember that running is an excellent excuse to wear an absurd amount of neon:) |
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