Runnin on Empty

I have a phobia, a complex, an issue ... I have a hard time running with people. There, I've said it. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's the idea of them listening to me gasp for air, or maybe it's the pressure to maintain a conversation while I'm gasping for air, or maybe it's the flash images I get of them shoving me into oncoming traffic .... I don't know, but something about it makes me nervous. I recently thought it was time to break-through this fear and started running with some friends a couple times a week. I thought things were going to be all right until yesterday.

I should have know it was a day for disaster. I hadn't slept well, my allergies were flaring up, I hadn't been running for a week and my body was so confused by the tricky weather. Valerie and I kicked it into gear and immediately my mind started rolling .... "This sucks ...My legs are tired already.... I have to blow my nose ... Seriously? .. Do you think she's believe me if I told her my shoes were untied again? ..." Anyway, there is this section of Main Street in Kaysville that is basically a highway (you Kaysvillians know where I'm talking about). You don't ever want to get caught walking on this stretch because a million cars pass you and you look like a looser. And let's face it, I live in a small town where someone is bound to recognize you and that would be completely embarrassing. So, we're trotting along. Valerie is chirping away because she is not out of breath, her legs aren't tired and isn't even slightly breaking a sweat. I am wheezing and praying that she doesn't decide to shove me in front of the next car (she is not a violent person, just a little bit of that paranoia kicking in). We were 6 feet from getting off that blasted highway when it all unfolded ....

I tripped ... I fell ... I was pushed ... I don't know, but it was humiliating. I fell, I rolled and I grimaced. I remember my feet in the air. I remember the distance I bounced. I remember the feeling of rock on my knees ... my hands ... my back ... I remember cars whizzing by during the morning traffic. I remember praying that one of them didn't hit me. Mostly, I remember seeing Valerie's face, filled with pure gratitude that it wasn't her making a spectacle of herself in such a busy place. I waited for the stars to clear and we hobbled home.

Looking back on my years of running, my pride has never been this damaged. This is what happens when you run with people. You have witnesses. There is something to be said for solitary silence. For letting yourself boogie to the tunes on your i pod. For winding your way through sleepy neighborhood streets. For stopping to blow your nose (or "tie your shoe") any time you want. Having said that, I will be returning to the pack ... for the time being ... once I find my pride (maybe on the corner of Main and Burton?), and once my body heals, of course.