There is a point in the run where you hit your stride and the euphoria of being able to conquer nations takes over. There is nothing you cannot do. When did the world become so gloriously beautiful?! When did the trees shedding their leaves get so cathartic? Why is the universe deciding to finally open up?? Endorphins.
It hit me three miles into an early, overcast, drizzly run. Perfect weather. I planned to be out long so I needed to take water. I hate the awkwardness of my hand-held bottle so I dug my hydration belt out and wiped the dust off. Filled two bottles, strapped the belt around my waist, and texted my far-away husband that I was headed out on a run. And where. This joke in the back of my mind like, yeah, this will be on the news later, "She texted him her route."
The thing is this. I normally wear a handgun around my waist, concealed in a belly strap. But it doesn't work with the hydration belt. I can't wear them both at the same time. This morning the mileage won out. I had to get at least eight training miles in and I couldn't do it without water. It was 8:30 in the morning so I figured the likelihood of me needing a firearm paled in comparison to the necessity of water.
So I set out. And it was glorious. My goal race pace is 10 minute miles, and I was ticking off 9:40s without much difficulty. The sky was that beautiful gray that makes the colors of the leaves seem artificial. Super-saturated. The rich smell of autumn's decay and tilled earth perfumed my path. Potential energy stored away for another season. The bittersweet melancholy of autumn settling in on the fields, the houses, the people. This is why I love Ohio; the forced introspection, life always in transit. THIS is why I run. This.
...
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Why. I looked over my shoulder and there he was. Long-legged and empty eyes, slow rolling on a bike behind me. My first thought was a unanimous FUCK. The second was a blinding rage. I breathed out and squared my shoulders. Turned again and he was still there. Looking at me. I had made it to the long stretch of asphalt that runs -for miles- between two roads, and traverses a vast and desolate farmland. Fuck. Me. There was no one. No house in view, just asphalt and to either side, cornfield. I started searching the ditches with my eyes, for rocks, for sticks, for anything that I could use as a weapon. I cursed myself for choosing water over my handgun.
And then I got mad.
The thoughts came rapidly and without prompting. I have a right to be on this trail. It is not my fault that I am a runner. It is not my fault that I run alone. It is not my fault that I am not a man. It is not a handicap that I am a woman. I am not a God damn victim. I refuse to let some piece of shit ruin running for me.
He passed me. Slowly. He said "good morning" and I thought you are long in the tooth. He did not look away from me. Awkwardly. Purposefully. A full 30 feet and he kept his head craned. I felt certain that we would be fighting, and I imagined smashing his head into the asphalt over, and over (you grab the hair, just above the ears). I thought, Joe is going to be so incredibly mad at me. He bought me the gun, for just this purpose. I imagined killing this stranger in the most horrible and gruesome way I could with only my hands.
The man continued riding. Slowly. He turned around to leer at me every few seconds. But he kept riding. Whatever checklist he had in his brain, I failed. Or passed, depending on your perspective. I was not a good opportunity, apparently. And thank God.
When I got home, 5 miles later, I immediately ordered a hydration vest. That will allow me to wear my handgun. Next time, I'll be armed.
NTMF.
