The fog was so thick it
wrapped a suffocating blanket around my chest, making breathing difficult. Or maybe it was the fear that made breath
impossible. Pitch black and lit only by
the occasional noise from the trees which lined the road. The neighborhoods with their porch lights and
Christmas trees were several blocks back and as I put one foot in front of the
other I was aware of the futility of my headlamp.
The final stretch of road
between me and the park was long and black in a way you can find only in the
country away from the noise and lights.
I started down the last stretch knowing it well from hundreds of miles
pacing this path. I knew the only thing to either side of me was thick woods
and furry creatures. I hesitated for a
moment and my running partner slowed with me, always in tune with my thoughts,
often before I was. In fact it was only when she altered her stride that I
became aware of my own change. An
internal battle was taking place, a mental tug of war. “You
will be fine, you know the road and Ellie is with you”. The dialogue of the other end of the rope,
the one I named fear was not understandable in dialogue, it was a general sense
of dread and vague uneasiness. There was
nothing specific to be afraid of, rather it was the feeling of being so completely
alone and vulnerable which gave me pause.
Maybe it was the fog, so thick I could feel it fill my lungs as I ran. Maybe it was because it had been a while since
I had run in the dark, or since I had run at all.
This all took place in my
head in a matter of seconds. I looked at
Ellie, gave her the usual “let’s go” and grabbed my pace, plunging into the
darkest section of my run.
Up until this brief
struggle I had been enjoying one of those rare occasions in running when everything
is flowing so perfectly you wish it would never end. As I ran into the thick air, I felt the flow
return and couldn’t help but smile. I
realized the metaphor immediately of course and spent the next couple miles thinking
on how often I have experienced similar moments of hesitation. Without doubt I have never once in my life
turned around away from the fear. From
the youngest age I can remember I have always dove headfirst into the darkness,
even in times I probably should not have.
I don’t have a fairy tale ending and the outcome has not always been
what I was hoping for. On the flip side
however I can say wholeheartedly that I have not one single regret for any of
those moments, they become me and my story.
Earlier in the night I had
decided to go for a run on a whim. I
hadn’t been out in a while, over two months because of a broken foot. I was heading out with girlfriends for a
night out, my first night out in too long to admit. I figured I would run/walk which is what I
had been doing the last couple weeks but walking more than running.
Everything seemed to be
clicking though and as I started I knew right away it was going to be one of
those magical runs. And it was. Had I turned around I would have been missed
out. I know the pride that comes with
facing the fear and coming out on the other side and I know the disappointment
of not accomplishing what I have set out to do.
Make no mistake, the
majority of that dark section in the fog, I was afraid. Every noise I heard meant a skunk was ready
to spray. Yes a skunk. I know there are no bears, the other animals
don’t scare me, but I am consistently nervous about being sprayed by a skunk
while running in the woods in the dark.
I am afraid of creepy humans who might be out there and people who have
twisted and malicious intentions. And
yet I know the odds of this are small and in fact no bigger than any other time
running.
My victory though is in
allowing and accepting my emotions, but not letting them drive my decisions. This is a battle most of us face and
fight. The most important reminder I
give myself is this is how I have gotten to my most amazing experiences. From world travel to achieving my
“impossible” to a foggy nighttime run, the fear has been overwhelming. The only thing bigger than the fear? My pride and my gratitude after I make my way
through the darkness.
