Monday, March 26, 2012

Why I Sometimes Hate Being a Woman


Last Friday, the day before we left Reed Bingham State Park, Shawn walked into the bedroom after spending the afternoon writing at a coffee shop and found me lying on the couch looking crazy-eyed. He tenderly suggested, “Why don’t you go have some time to yourself…”

This has become our new, and necessary, habit. Spending the day hanging out in a bus with 4 lively children can bring a mother to the edge. So I threw on some shoes and rushed out the door before anyone could ask for a drink or need a diaper change.

I knew exactly where I wanted to go. The first day we arrived there, one of the park employees had given me a map of the area, with a detailed drawing of some trails about a ½ mile north of where we were camping. I needed some space and nature to clear my mind; those trails would do the trick.

As I ran down the road leading to the trails, I felt the slightest sense of apprehension. These trails were secluded, nothing else around but forest and prairie. I hadn’t told Shawn where I was going; I hadn’t brought a cell phone. Truth is, I did both those things intentionally. I just wanted time to myself, unattached, unwatched. But as I turned off the main road and started down one of the root sprayed trails, I decided this probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done. But I had noticed that the parking lot at the trail entrance was empty; I’d probably be the only one out there.

So I ran on. A light rain started falling as I pounded down the boardwalk that stretched along part of the trail. Beside the low fronds of palmettos, deer perked their ears at the strumming of my feet, and darted for deeper cover. Pine green waters rose on either side of the boardwalk, dispersing into shallow swamp, then wet forest floor.

A mile into the trail, I started to worry that I’d lost my way. I wasn’t seeing any signs for the additional paths and the rain was getting heavier so I turned around. As I headed back towards the entrance to the trail and just began thinking about the hot shower I’d take at the bathhouse nestled close to the bus, I saw two young men walking towards me.

“Oh, shit.” I mumbled to myself.

I am well aware of the fact that those two boys could have been the sweetest, most delightful kids ever born in the great state of Georgia, but I’ve unfortunately watched too many “Made for TV” movies, too much 11 o’clock news, and to me, this scenario looked bad: a woman running all by herself in the deep woods of a state park, two men with no fishing poles, no running gear, no visible reason to be walking the trails on a rainy afternoon.

As they approached, I sped up my running. I’m a notoriously slow runner, but as I neared them, I got up to a pretty fast clip. They looked like they were in their early twenties, hefty, wearing gym shorts and baggy t-shirts, hats turned cock-eyed; not the nature-loving sort.

I didn’t look directly at them as I passed them, just spurted a quick “Hi” and kept my eyes ahead of me, chanting prayers of protection in my head.

“How you doing?” A slow, baritone voice replied as cigarette smoke wafted behind them.

That’s when I hit a sprint.

“Oh, God, protect me…” I whispered, tearing up the trail as fast as I could, glancing over my shoulder every hundred feet or so to be sure they didn’t turn around. “They’re tubby guys,” I told myself. “You could outrun them if you needed to.” But when I hit the entrance of the trail, I saw their car, the only car, sitting in the parking lot. I couldn’t outrun a car.

Constantly looking behind me, I thundered along the ½ mile lonely, forest-lined road, leading back to civilization, a hot flurry of breath and fear and anger. I was blazing mad at myself for being in such a stupid scenario: alone, without a phone, no one knowing my whereabouts. Then I felt embarrassment that I had stirred a seemingly innocent situation into a full-blown nightmare, a cynic with a dramatic flair. But this highway of emotion finally ended with simple sadness that I live in a world where I had to think about horrific things like abduction, rape, and murder on a peaceful trail run.

Obviously, I made it home unharmed. Half-depressed, I staggered up the bus steps to find the cheerful faces of my husband and two youngest children sitting on the sofa having just finished a rousing reading of Dig, Dig, Digging. And instantly all the anger, embarrassment, and sadness evaporated, with gratefulness springing up in their stead: thankful that those boys were better citizens than I gave them credit for, thankful for grace filling in for my stupidity, thankful that giggling children still cuddle up in the arms of their father for an afternoon of reading…

Thankful that the world still has some goodness left in it.

A question for all you female runners out there: what makes you feel protected while out on a run?

33 comments:

  1. I started reading your post, and before you even got to the 2 guys, my mind went exactly where yours went! My heart started racing in fear for you. :)

    I myself am not a runner. I actively avoid that particular activity, so I have no advice for you on the protection front. :)

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    1. Michelle, it is always good to know that you aren't the only one to freak out in a given scenario; thanks so much for the comment!

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  2. So scary! I would have done the same thing! I always always always have my phone with me!

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    1. Amber, I think I shall always always always have mine with me from here on out; great advice!

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  3. Yup... I would have felt/done the *same* thing. I'm making my son run with me for the moment. When he starts public school in the fall, I just may be running at the Y exclusively.

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    1. Becky, I love the "buddy system" idea here. I was actually just thinking the other day how fun it will be when my kids and I can run together, but alas they are still too young for more than 200 ft. of jogging. One day. Sounds like a special thing to be able to share with your son; I'm really looking forward to those days. Thanks for chiming in!

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  4. Carry Mace!! Holy geez woman! You scared the bleep outta me! I was reading it like it was a made for TV scene! Great writing though ;O)

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    1. I know, Suzanne, not one of my brighter moments; I scared the bleep outta myself as well! Yes, mace would be the sensible thing, wouldn't it! And where do I buy such a thing as mace? I just can't imagine what department that would be in at Walmart? Thanks for the suggestion!

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  5. I would look in the hunting/sports department...if you can't find it there ask one of the workers. You could also do what my neighbor did and get a conceal and carry licence ;O)

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    1. Wow, now that would be taking protection up another notch, wouldn't it!

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  6. I have been running for a little over a year now and I can say that sadly I have had that feeling more than once. When I run I am usually never more than 3 to 4 miles for the house but in the early morning before the sun is fully up it can still be a little creepy. I am grateful for the reminder that there is a reason God gives us those little voices of warning in the back of our minds. So glad your story turned out the way it did.

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    1. Jen, I like what you said: "there is a reason God gives us those little voices of warning in the back of our minds." I remember reading the book "The Gift of Fear" many years ago, and it actually came to mind in the above situation. In the end, I realized that there was no reason for embarrassment in the way I reacted; it was just my self-preservation instincts kicking in and that is a gift from God. Thanks for chiming in, Jen!

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  7. Amen, friend, to all of it. I've felt the same range of emotions on runs simply because I'm a woman. It's not fair. We were meant for a world where we can all run safely because no one means to do anyone else harm. But til we get to that world, I carry a little fear with me on my evening runs, and it makes my heart pump a little harder and my legs pound a little stronger; and perhaps that's the gift in the meantime.

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    1. Love the idea of a harder run being the gift; such a great perspective! I most definitely ran my heart out that day, the hardest run I've done in a very very long time.

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  8. When I was younger and growing up in the 60s and 70s I used to run forested trails near my home without fear. My running days are past me as I am now in my mid-50s, but I am still a rather avid hiker. Back when we lived in the wilds of Chester County, there was a trailhead through a county park within a few hundred yards of our home. While the thought of walking the trail by myself crossed my mind more than once, my partner warned me not to take the chance. I remember an especially beautiful day when I was home alone and I decided to take a walk by myself anyway. I hiked the first part of the trail which was always very well populated. When I crossed the county road into the less-traveled section, I remember saying to myself "don't go any farther" and I picked up a large stick. It was such a beautiful day that I stayed on the trail along with several other hiker and dog walkers, ending up hiking most of that section. When I turned around, however, the trail was deserted and I hurried back to the county road breathing a sigh of relief when I did. I never did hike the that trail by myself, and now that we live in more populated Lancaster County, I hike the streets of my neighborhood without fear.

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    1. So it is true, Janelle, that the world has gotten far less safer for women. So sad. But I am so thankful for those instincts that say "don't go any farther". I think they've probably saved us far more times than we know.

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  9. Been there and did the same thing. You reacted exactly like I would have... it is one way to get a fast run in :)
    I do carry a phone with me at all times and when I run alone I try and let someone (usually Jerry) know where/when I'm running. And if I feel fearful in any situation, I pull out my phone and call someone (or pretend to) until I'm pass them... so they think that I'd have help there in a minute.
    Sometimes afterwards, I feel guilty for not thinking better of whatever men walked past me. But you are right... at times, it sucks being a woman.

    But since the accident, I do (kinda) feel like I carry protection with me... if a man attacks me, I plan to tell him that my leg has a flesh-eating bacterial desease and the bacteria will jump to any tender skin near it :) Since most men have high regard for their penis... I'm hoping they would turn and run!

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    1. Ahahahaha! Brilliant. Love it, Janet. :D

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    2. Oh, Janet, what a way to put your injury to good use! You might have us all feeling a little envious of your secret weapon;)

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  10. The sad thing is on much less scary runs, gender is still an issue. I can get so self-conscious over whistles and honking horns and the like that my stride gets completely messed up, and my thoughts are anything but stress-relieving. Ugh.

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    1. I totally agree, Anne. It's amazing how I can be plugging along and then a honk completely takes the wind out of my sails. I echo your "Ugh"; no better word to describe it.

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  11. Hi Maile!

    I found your blog via Andi. I don't know how well this would fit in to your current situation, but a canine running buddy is one way to run safer...

    Happy running!
    Cathy

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    1. Cathy, that's a great idea! I've actually been borrowing my brother's dog for my runs while we've been visiting with him and his family in Tennessee. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm at the point in life where I'm ready to add a four-legged member to our family; I kind of feel like I already have 4 puppies with our 4 kids! Great suggestion, though; thanks, Cathy! (And welcome to the blog!)

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  12. A girl recently got abducted in my town never to be seen again. Not running, but she's gone. I'm so scared to run by myself, I almost always ask my husband to come along. It's sad that I have to think like that.

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    1. Oh, Fer, those are the stories that I just absolutely break my heart! Sad, indeed, that our world has come to this. Thoughts and prayers with the family...

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  13. Well, I run everyday before the sun comes up, at 5am & I always take my cell phone, which also features a gps Nike app & clark can track it, If needed. When I run with my friend, she carries mace a lot!

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    1. Kara, thanks so much for the app idea. Since I have just entered the 21st century and recently got an IPhone, I'll have to check that out! Thanks for sharing!

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  14. Oh my word!! I was saying "oh my gosh" in a whispered tone over and over as I read this next to my sleeping baby! My two thoughts- those could have been underage guys going for a
    Smoke or as my husband did in college-going for a whole different kind of smoke! He did indeed take a walk with a friend one nite on a path in Ashburn in the winter while high on something. So those guys you saw may have been trying to play it cool themselves! Just try to think that if it makes you feel any better! But I will say I would have freaked out too!! Oh and I have a pullover thin jacket by Nike that has a zippered pocket on the back that is perfect for holding a cell phone! Get one of those jackets if you dont already own one! Surely they make shirts like that too so u don't have to sweat in a jacket all summer long! Love ya, Mai!

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    1. Oh, Laura, you crack me up. Just thinking of Evan on a clandestine mission to smoke a doobie brought me such a good giggle. Thanks, my friend, and I think the clothing piece is a great suggestion. I need to get some pocketed gear for sure! Love you, girl!

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  15. UGH, I get your feeling on this! I take way too many things on hikes with me - mace, whistles and cell phone, in hopes I won't get raped! It's ridiculous and does it happen that often? NO! But if we don't do these things, we're the "dumb women". Makes me angry too.

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  16. I take my dog with me, and then I feel mostly invincible. Except for the fact that about 10 minutes in (or less), I'm dragging her to keep up. :)

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    1. Yes, Joy, I love the dog idea. While in Nashville, I borrowed my brother's dog for my runs and felt completely safe. I know she probably would have whimpered into a puddle if danger surfaced (she's so soft-hearted and sweet) but something about having her by my side made me feel so safe. She's still a puppy so she tended to drag me along, which was nice:) Thanks for chiming in!

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