Survival Mode
Run.
That's all I could think to do.
Just go faster.
Run.
Faster.
In an effort to run faster, I often imagine that someone is chasing me. It's a mental game that has the physical result of making me sprint like no one's business and then collapsing, out of breath and outta my mind.
But today, I didn't create an imaginary pursuit to keep my pace up.
There was no need to do so, because reality showed up and did that for me.
It all started as I made my way down the sidewalk early this rainy, overcast morning. Because of how early it was, there weren't many people to see as I scanned my surroundings, excepting one other runner who I saw out of my peripheral vision. He was over by the lakeside, and I was going through town.
I'm listening to music and get distracted by the smell of Nickel's Pit BBQ, which is already busy working on tonight's chicken-pork-bbq-goodness. My pace slows a tad to savor the flavors wafting through the air and, whilst crossing the street, I look both ways and notice that this other runner is now also going down the main street, but on the opposite sidewalk.
Probably a trained runner or just enjoying his natural ability to go fast, he sped up quite a lot and seemed to be trying to outrun me, or maybe that was my imagination. Yet after having to stop at a traffic light, we were both running at a similar pace which made it a bit weird as we stayed neck and neck, and again I sensed that he wanted to beat me in this silly little street race.
Earbuds in, I simply stayed in my zone and did my own thing, which eventually led to me out-running him...that, or he fell behind to see where I would go, a thought that didn't occur to me till after the fact.
I dodged off the sidewalk and into the glen parking lot just as a semi went by and blocked the other runner's view, yet I imagined he could still spot me if he was looking, though I didn't think he was. At this point I was pretty chill, knowing that I make these things up all the time in my head, and fairly sure I was doing the same thing now.
But my imagination was not tripping me up, and I realized that as soon as I stepped out across the first bridge into the glen. I habitually turn my head to look out over the scenary but this time as I did so I could not admire the view because there, coming up through the park entrance, I spotted him running too.
Again, it's early. Not much past 6 o'clock, and the sky is quite overcast, meaning hardly anyone else is out and about. The glen is a one-way trail for a little while, and entirely made up of stairs, so on a normal run I take many breaks and catch my breath in between the flights of stairs. This took fight/flight mode to a whole new level.
I quickly averted my gaze back to the puddled stairs and, heart racing a little faster, let my legs take me up the second, third, and fourth flight of steps. I knew the most important thing at this moment was energy conversation--at least till I could get to a point of escape off the main trail and dodge away.
You must think strategically, I told myself, and began to calculate the distance between us, eventually figuring that I would be able to go my usual pace and maybe even have time to walk, as long as these assumptions held true:
1. I knew he had been running before as well, so his energy levels were probably not at peak level.
2. The glen is not an easy run and the intensity of stair-sprints (not to mention, rainy-wet stair-sprints), should be just as tiring to him as it is to me, again, this would mean that we'd keep the same pace and therefore the same distance between us.
3. From what I'd noted of him, he wasn't anyone super strong looking...fast, but uphill endurance is a whole different beast, so assuming he doesn't run the glen that much (I've only ever met myself running the glen, so I don't know how many other people do it), he won't be used to the steep incline.
I knew I was making assumptions, but they encouraged self-preseveration and in survival mode the most important thing to tell yourself is this: I will make it out alive.
Keeping things light-hearted, I continued to breath my way through the stairs and avoided bursts of all-out speed. After a few minutes I realized it may be safer to take my earbuds out, and therefore know of anything coming up behind me without having to turn and look all the time.
My first opportunity to dodge off the main trail arrived, but I decided against it. If he was thinking that I had caught on to him coming after me (I'm pretty certain he saw me notice him enter the glen), then it would be a 50-50 chance that he'd also go up that side path. So I ran on.
I saw him again, rounding a corner, but all this time I'm focused: you are going to be okay. I know from this youtube video that I watched that the difference between those who survive and those who don't is that the survivors have this irrational belief that they are equipped and able to defend themselves even in the face of great odds. In other words: Don't freak out. Don't freeze. Keep running.
Slippery. These rocks are slippery. I place my attention on carefully and safely landing each foot on these wet slabs of rock that make up the pathway, again telling myself: I will make it out alive.
My second opportunity to get off the main path arrives. I know that he can't see me right now because of the curvature of the glen, and I have time, so I take that turn and swiftly run up the stairs and onto the woodsy trail. My senses are still alert, because he could be anywhere, but I allow myself the luxury of walking and catching my breath for a bit, my shoulder's relaxing as I fill my tight lungs with oxygen.
Endorphins racing, I put my earbuds back in and run through the cemetary, down the pavement, up another hill, down yet another hill, and finally back home.
I survived.
I made it out alive.
I did it.
I don't care if he "just happened" to be running the same way I was, I don't care if maybe he had no intention of following me: unfortunately it's the times we think we're safest that bad things happen. You can't let your guard down, and especially not as a female in the early-morning of Nascar week, during which thousands of people from all over the map flock to our little town.
And if it was just a coincidence? Then at least I got a good run out of it.
That's all I could think to do.
Just go faster.
Run.
Faster.
··················································
In an effort to run faster, I often imagine that someone is chasing me. It's a mental game that has the physical result of making me sprint like no one's business and then collapsing, out of breath and outta my mind.
But today, I didn't create an imaginary pursuit to keep my pace up.
There was no need to do so, because reality showed up and did that for me.
It all started as I made my way down the sidewalk early this rainy, overcast morning. Because of how early it was, there weren't many people to see as I scanned my surroundings, excepting one other runner who I saw out of my peripheral vision. He was over by the lakeside, and I was going through town.
I'm listening to music and get distracted by the smell of Nickel's Pit BBQ, which is already busy working on tonight's chicken-pork-bbq-goodness. My pace slows a tad to savor the flavors wafting through the air and, whilst crossing the street, I look both ways and notice that this other runner is now also going down the main street, but on the opposite sidewalk.
Probably a trained runner or just enjoying his natural ability to go fast, he sped up quite a lot and seemed to be trying to outrun me, or maybe that was my imagination. Yet after having to stop at a traffic light, we were both running at a similar pace which made it a bit weird as we stayed neck and neck, and again I sensed that he wanted to beat me in this silly little street race.
Earbuds in, I simply stayed in my zone and did my own thing, which eventually led to me out-running him...that, or he fell behind to see where I would go, a thought that didn't occur to me till after the fact.
I dodged off the sidewalk and into the glen parking lot just as a semi went by and blocked the other runner's view, yet I imagined he could still spot me if he was looking, though I didn't think he was. At this point I was pretty chill, knowing that I make these things up all the time in my head, and fairly sure I was doing the same thing now.
But my imagination was not tripping me up, and I realized that as soon as I stepped out across the first bridge into the glen. I habitually turn my head to look out over the scenary but this time as I did so I could not admire the view because there, coming up through the park entrance, I spotted him running too.
Again, it's early. Not much past 6 o'clock, and the sky is quite overcast, meaning hardly anyone else is out and about. The glen is a one-way trail for a little while, and entirely made up of stairs, so on a normal run I take many breaks and catch my breath in between the flights of stairs. This took fight/flight mode to a whole new level.
I quickly averted my gaze back to the puddled stairs and, heart racing a little faster, let my legs take me up the second, third, and fourth flight of steps. I knew the most important thing at this moment was energy conversation--at least till I could get to a point of escape off the main trail and dodge away.
You must think strategically, I told myself, and began to calculate the distance between us, eventually figuring that I would be able to go my usual pace and maybe even have time to walk, as long as these assumptions held true:
1. I knew he had been running before as well, so his energy levels were probably not at peak level.
2. The glen is not an easy run and the intensity of stair-sprints (not to mention, rainy-wet stair-sprints), should be just as tiring to him as it is to me, again, this would mean that we'd keep the same pace and therefore the same distance between us.
3. From what I'd noted of him, he wasn't anyone super strong looking...fast, but uphill endurance is a whole different beast, so assuming he doesn't run the glen that much (I've only ever met myself running the glen, so I don't know how many other people do it), he won't be used to the steep incline.
I knew I was making assumptions, but they encouraged self-preseveration and in survival mode the most important thing to tell yourself is this: I will make it out alive.
Keeping things light-hearted, I continued to breath my way through the stairs and avoided bursts of all-out speed. After a few minutes I realized it may be safer to take my earbuds out, and therefore know of anything coming up behind me without having to turn and look all the time.
My first opportunity to dodge off the main trail arrived, but I decided against it. If he was thinking that I had caught on to him coming after me (I'm pretty certain he saw me notice him enter the glen), then it would be a 50-50 chance that he'd also go up that side path. So I ran on.
I saw him again, rounding a corner, but all this time I'm focused: you are going to be okay. I know from this youtube video that I watched that the difference between those who survive and those who don't is that the survivors have this irrational belief that they are equipped and able to defend themselves even in the face of great odds. In other words: Don't freak out. Don't freeze. Keep running.
Slippery. These rocks are slippery. I place my attention on carefully and safely landing each foot on these wet slabs of rock that make up the pathway, again telling myself: I will make it out alive.
My second opportunity to get off the main path arrives. I know that he can't see me right now because of the curvature of the glen, and I have time, so I take that turn and swiftly run up the stairs and onto the woodsy trail. My senses are still alert, because he could be anywhere, but I allow myself the luxury of walking and catching my breath for a bit, my shoulder's relaxing as I fill my tight lungs with oxygen.
Endorphins racing, I put my earbuds back in and run through the cemetary, down the pavement, up another hill, down yet another hill, and finally back home.
I survived.
I made it out alive.
I did it.
I don't care if he "just happened" to be running the same way I was, I don't care if maybe he had no intention of following me: unfortunately it's the times we think we're safest that bad things happen. You can't let your guard down, and especially not as a female in the early-morning of Nascar week, during which thousands of people from all over the map flock to our little town.
And if it was just a coincidence? Then at least I got a good run out of it.
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