The signs of crime rise in our area have been readily apparent but I really need to get out and run for the night. There is an itch that cannot be scratched with anything other rubber meeting the pavement.
Texas is typically hot, especially in the summer. You can judge the weather two ways: check weather.com or check the Dallas crime rates for recent weeks. They are in sync.
I strapped on the Nikes and decided to go around the block a few times just to get my heart rate up and justify actually changing my shirt – it didn’t stink bad enough yet.
Gotta take the typical gear: pockets in the pockets that flop out holding a small knife or pepper sprayer, holster for the subcompact in case of aggressive confrontations, the digital radio: who doesn’t listen to music. Actually, that’s a pretty good debate for another day. Finally a night shirt with reflectors and my red golf hat.
So, I’m ready to go but my tummy is still a bit too big so the pistol throws my weight off a smidge and I return to the house and lock it in the hideaway.
Back on the road: cracked pavement in need of repair, sidewalks with pesky night spiders (look up orbweavers) and the occasional crazy mustang veering around the corner.
I started a getting a little pain in my side, probably because I am favoring my shoulder but I truck on. Half way up a hill, I’m feeling a little dizzy and thought I noticed a shadow that didn’t belong there. Time to speed up! The Super Target is just around the corner and lots of people of unsavory character like to troll the parking lot and a half naked man probably only holding his ID and house key is a likely target.
As I turn the corner, I am distracted by two things: a lady and her yelping ball of fur and a new shadow that definately shouldn’t have been there. I paused, heard a rustle and the distinct sound of a linebacker hounding a QB. I feigned left, dropped to a strong stance and removed the players left patella from its original position with my heal. As I turned with the self defense knife in my hand, I looked down a the red soaking through my shirt. This was starting to be ugly.
All I had to do was duck a shot, get one in and be on my way. Not with the fates today. Instead I’m on my back clutching my side wondering where my phone or that yelping dog went. At this point, I’m a mosquito buffet.
All goes black.
About three minutes later, a fella approaches me and asks if I’m ok. “AM I OK? I’VE BEEN KNIFED!” Really? he responds. I look down and realize that my side ache has gone away. The delirium associated with running into a tree branch (shadow not supposed to be there) had a fun time with my imagination.
Anyway, keep running – especially if somebody’s running after you. That’s my motto, kind of.
Michael