Frankly, I didn't mind this at all, because at the time, while it was wet out, it wasn't pouring. Heavier than mist, but lighter than a down pour, a compromise between. I like that, because I like the way it physically feels to move in that. Besides, the event itself has no rain-date, and so I figured, no harm, no foul.
Now, being a New Yorker, I let someone know I was going out to run the minute I hit the sidewalk, then I entered the park. Just as I was about to begin my warm up, it struck me: there wasn't another single soul around. Not a one. Not anywhere. Being a TRUE New Yorker, I called another friend and basically said, "Hey, I'm going for a run in such and such place. If you don't hear from me by X time, come look for me--I'm hurt."
The basics taken care of, I warmed up and took off.
Breakfast/Lunch: left-over rice and roast pork, cran-pomegranate juice.
Dinner: rice pasta with gluten-free sausage
Treat: Tall skim no whip white mocha and 2 dark chocolate-covered graham crackers (hey, it was COLD later!)
The park was absolutely beautiful and as I ran through my module, I chose a path that would take me along the lake, so I could really enjoy the hills on one side, and the water on the other, making certain I'd take no grass nor mud paths--the rain would make those ways treacherous.
Not even a quarter way into the session, I was absolutely soaked, and ever so slightly cool. Fine though. Gray light brought the green and the flowers out in sharp relief and as I breathed deeply of the lake and soil-scented air I noticed how similar blackberry blossoms are to certain type of cherry blossoms. At different points as the terrain rolled by me, I wished I had a camera or video equipment to somehow capture some of the incredibleness I witnessed. I had all of it to myself, and I wanted to share it.
Unless you've actually been there, most people don't know how much parts of New York look like Scotland, and even in a sculpted/sculptured park, because of the mist, the air, even the shades of green, I was struck hard by the similarities. This of course, made me think of stories and legends, history and myth; the richness of Celtic culture that I've always so enjoyed.
I neared the bridge, looking forward to crossing it during its mystic best. Gulls occasionally flew over head and as I glanced on occasions at the water on either side, I could see huge "surfacing" type rings and glass spots, the smallest 12 feet across, the largest about 21. But nothing actually surfaced, and since the lake is actually a reservoir, more than likely it was either the fans pushing or pumping water in exchange.
Across the bridge, there's a bit of path before it ends at a road. Now, there was no one in the park, but there were still occasional cars on the road. I debated: turn around at the road itself, follow the path I'd first taken a few days ago that follows the road, or just before emerging through the path, turn around and take another variation.
Well, frankly, remember how I said I was a real New Yorker? Okay, this is what I thought: There was absolutely NO ONE in the park, but there were people on the road. Emerging even near the road, what if a car happened to drive by and it so happened that there was a twisted person who figured, "Hey, look! Lone jogger! I can practice my new serial killer technique!" So I turned around at a point before I could be seen from the road.
Which meant I'd go back over the bridge. For some reason, as I watched the "rising" rings in the water, the rising that normally means something will breach, but never did, I thought about the first "grown up" book I read when I was in the third grade: Jaws. It opens with a swimmer who goes out in the middle of the night into the water and basically gets eaten by this efficient, silent, predator. No one knew what had happened to the anonymous girl that opened that book. And then I thought about Patricia Brigg's work, and her incorporation of the Fae (aka fairies) into "our" world, and how they're mostly not that nice, and in fact mostly dangerous and when they do things, well, they do it where it can't be seen.
I thought about her last book, that had a bridge troll in it, and how in the middle of the bridge itself there are two small towers on either side, almost like a toll point. That, I thought to myself, is exactly the sort of place that those trolls would hang. If you can't pay them, they eat you. And of course, the best time and place to do it is when there's no one around. How can anyone possibly really believe fae exist if no one ever sees them, right?
At this point, those rising rings got bigger. Remember how I run 60 walk 90?
48, 49, 50, and I'd hit the walking part just before I hit those pillars. I know you're not supposed to run from an immortal - it only catches their attention. But I was running already, so...
56, 57, 58...and the water, which had been silent before, slapped really hard against the rocks.
63, 64, 65, and I was at the exact halfway point. 66, 67, 68 and I had past it.
75, 76, 77, and I told myself, Jae, there's nothing there, just look behind you and see, but just as my gaze hit my shoulder, another voice jumped in. "Hey, don't do that--that's when it EATS YOU!"
112, 113, 114 and I blew out the module for that section. At 120, I knew I'd have to walk 180 for a proper recovery, and I realized a few things.
One: I'm not doing that again. If I'm running alone, I'm going out way earlier when there are people around and walking their dogs.
Two: It doesn't matter if there was something there or not, because Lord, when it comes to sprint, I've still got it, and I'm building it even further.
Three: This is the most important part. It's true: when you're doing your flat out strongest effort and you look behind you, the monster gets you. Why? Because you've slowed down, because as you twist your head, you twist your body and you not only change the position of your foot fall, you're no longer can see where you're going. The result: eaten or injury. Either way, progress is not only slowed, it's halted, possibly permanently, depending on severity.
In the end, all it is is fear chasing you, fear that will halt you, stop you, trip you, hurt you, eat you. Fear. False Evidence Appearing Real.
And you know what? This doesn't just apply to racing, whether it's running, cycling, or swimming. So...I've learned something and in keeping with true fae tradition, it took a bit of physical price. In the end, no harm, no foul, and a...lesson...I had to search within to really get.
Why not call it something else (like...something resembling those things people open at birthdays or holidays)? Here's the thing: you should never thank the fae, not ever, not at all. You'll owe them, and they will collect. Guaranteed, it will be much more than you're willing to pay, and fear takes the highest toll of all.
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