Running. I have been out of the business for a few years now. I procrastinate on my writing with the idea of running, and then procrastinate on my running to write. But it’s time to run. With one year until (maybe) tenure, I am setting goals. Why not be all healthy when I make my acceptance speech?
So today I ran and lived to write about it. I wasn’t so confident when I laced up, as two years ago a drunk driver crashed full speed into a parked car that I had passed only seconds before. It was about 8 pm. I was running towards a t-junction on the left hand side of a boulevard, head down, solving world hunger. Before I had time to lift my head, I heard tires screeching and an engine roaring towards me. I looked up to see a car careening around the corner, struggling to get onto the boulevard. And failing. The driver lost control and smacked full speed into a parked car, just outside of a body shop (seriously). A small child inside the shop yelled “Papa.” I turned around, saw the driver jump out of the car, and I walked away.
I have first aid training. I was in the army reserves for 8 years. I have given first aid to car crash victims. It’s an innate reaction. But apparently with some exceptions. I was the only one who witnessed the crash. And, it turned out, the only one willing to place the drunk driver behind the wheel. But I walked away.
I called hubby, told him the story, climbed up on the lawn of a house, and kept on walking, from one lawn to the next, far from the sidewalk, farther still from the street. I walked all the way to a police station, 4 Km away, that turned out to be closed. So I walked back to my daughter’s soccer game and went home.
The next day I drove to the police station to tell my story. And they told me theirs. The driver had been arrested three times already for drunk driving. The other witnesses refused to place the driver behind the wheel, even though they saw him get out of the car. So if I could identify him, they could arrest him. But I had walked. And I had no idea what he looked like. And so I cried. A lot.
My body knows how to run. I have run for years. I even ran a marathon once, although they were picking up the cones behind me. When runners pass me by, my legs look up and say “Let’s try again, shall we?” and my heart aches. Because I wish I didn’t walk away.