Runners: Open Thread

Sometimes, my runs aren’t peaceful or beautiful.

Today, I was out with the running club. It was a route I didn’t know, and I took a wrong turn early on, so when I figured it out, I was near the back of the pack. I was heading down a road near the turn-around at the middle of the run when I passed a stoop; I was moving quickly, so when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I registered it as perhaps somebody sweeping out the stoop or getting their paper. It wasn’t until half a block later, when I turned around, that I saw a couple of the other runners behind me standing by the stoop, talking.

When I got there, I saw the woman. She was crying, seeming a little altered, and there was a strong smell of alcohol. Worst, she was wearing nothing from the waist down – no pants, underwear, shoes, or socks. Her blouse was thin, and it was a cold and wet morning; she was quite chilled and very distraught.

We tried to figure out the best way to help her. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there or what she’d been doing, and she only cried harder when we asked if she was with somebody or if there was somebody we could call. She knew her address but not how to get there, and she didn’t want us to call the police. The two men with us offered to get a car and drive her; we were about thirty minutes away from the parking lot where we’d started, though. They left, and another woman and I stayed, trying to talk to her.

Her name was Tencia. She was alternately sobbing and then telling us about her “babies at home” (who, she then said, were between 19 and 25 years old) and how she never wanted to drink again. I fumbled for something to say to console her, but was really coming up blank, since some things would make her cry again. Another man drove by and stopped, asking if we wanted us to call 911; we looked at each other and immediately decided that that was the best call; things were most definitely not good, and they were probably beyond our good intentions.

When the police arrived, she went with them calmly. They gathered our information and all we could tell them about Tencia, and we left, feeling uncertain. I still think it was the right decision, but I wonder what will happen to her. I pray that things were not as bad as they looked, but I can’t imagine a benign situation in which a woman winds up naked from the waist down in a seedy part of town with no memory of how she got there. If you pray, send some her way.

Ending the run felt almost superfluous at that point. Total of 7.3 miles, the last three of which were spent feeling as though I was running in my sleep, mind and heart still back at that stoop.