never again

You see him. His face is lit by the firelight lapping up from the barrel in front of him. He is wrapped in a silver emergency blanket over his tank top and running shorts. The air is cold and as he talks to the runner next to him, you can see his breath. Busses are arriving as dawn threatens. Athletes are pouring into the open space that is book ended by Honeybuckets. He hasn’t realized that you are staring at him because of the chaos of eager runners bouncing to keep their legs warm.

You haven’t seen him since the courtroom. They finalized the divorce and the settlement. You had been released from the hospital the day before you stood before the judge. There was a restraining order. There were damages awarded to pay for your medical expenses. There were scars that no one would ever see.

Everyone says you are lucky you didn’t have kids together and that makes your arms ache.

You can feel the runners shifting toward the starting line in masses. You’ve lost track of him in the crowd. Your heart starts to race like you are already running. You don’t know what he will do if he spies you in the crowd.

The irony that the race was going to start with a gunshot is not lost on you. 

The shot is fired and it takes a few minutes for the mass of people to begin to shift over the starting line. He could be anywhere in the thousands of people that are starting to bounce with the lift of their feet. You don’t dare put in your earphones. You are trying to look around you without looking like a crazy person. All the other runners are looking straight ahead, setting their watches and shedding their jackets, gloves and silver blankets. 

The only way down this canyon is on foot. You consider staying behind to see if one of the busses will take you back down to the starting line. But then he wins, again. If he keeps you from doing this, he wins. There are thousands of people.

You will run this race.

You will not run from him. You will run for you.

You start moving your feet. And suddenly the first mile is behind you, and you haven’t seen him. You have found a stride. A rhythm. You stay to one side of the open street and flinch when a runner comes up behind you too closely or takes a few moments too long to come around you. You finally put one earbud in and start playing your music. It distracts you a little and gives you a little more confidence to run on.

One of your favorite songs comes on and you begin to pick up speed on your second mile. Your mind wanders to the first day that you met him. He must have seen you coming because he knew all the right things to say. He knew you had never been in love. He was the first person to say it to you. You were intoxicated with the way it made you feel.

You pass the sign for another mile. And you think of the first time he hit you. Your feet speed up beneath you as you think of it. You didn’t tell anyone. He left bruises where no one could see them. He was very careful about that. You were careful about hiding them. 

You can hear a runner behind you. They are matching you pace for pace. You take the earbud out. Without the music, you feel vulnerable. You can hear too much and yet nothing but the ringing in your ears. You slow and they slow. You stop and they stop behind you.

You turn.

And you are face to face with him. He is smiling that same stupid grin.

“You can’t run forever.” He whispers. 

There are runners passing you without a second thought. There is a water stop ahead of you and they are pealing away from the pack grabbing cups two at a time.

“I am not running from you.” You reply.

He grabs your arm in a vicelike grip. You try to pull his fist from your arm but he is too strong. His fingernails and digging into the flesh of your arm and may soon draw blood. He pulls you closer to him so that his lips are nearly at your ear. “Of course, you are.”

He grabs your other arm. “You have been running from me since that day in the courtroom. But I found you.”

You try to move your feet but he is holding you in place. Just like his memory holds you in place every day. But not anymore. He will not hold you here anymore. You fill your lungs with air and with all of the sound and soul in you, you scream, “HELP ME!”

Runners stop in the middle of the road. Aids at the water station look up from where they are handing out cups. They are all looking at him where he is holding your arms in place. He drops his hands. A race officiator in a reflective vest puts a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

Two male runners who heard your cry are approaching him. One of the men steps between the two of you. From just up the street, a policeman on a motorcycle is approaching the water stop with his lights on and a siren blaring. There are others now who can hear you. Others who can see you.

He looks like a cornered animal.

It is time for you to finish the race. You are still afraid but brave. You will no longer let it keep you from finishing the race. Bravery is reaching out for help when you can no longer keep running.

You cross the finish line. You didn’t come in first but you won the race.

And he no longer has any power over you. Never again.