I was simply walking back home from the grocery store, heavy bags in my hands. All I wanted to do was traverse the last few alleys, get home and crash on my couch.
However, as I turned a corner, five men ran at me and surrounded me in the fraction of a second. As the heavily tattooed men whipped out their pistols, I knew I was done for.
“You,” the guy in front said in a deep voice as he pointed his pistol square at my head. “All your money, credit cards, whatever you got. Now!”
Shocked and terrified by their approach, I trembled as I stared at him like a doe in the headlights.
“So, what’s it gonna be huh?” he asked as he aimed his gun menacingly.
With no other option left, I ran in panic. The thing is, I had almost nothing to give them and really couldn’t risk getting mugged. I dropped my bags on the road and hobbled in the direction of a random alley, my legs burning, wanting to lose them somehow by shaking them off my trail.
“Get ‘im!” I heard the thugs shout from behind me. Oh no.
As they chased me, I continued moving to reach the turn in the road and escape. The thundering footsteps behind me, though, made it clear that I wasn’t going to escape.
I willed my body to move faster, run, and get away from danger. Oh god, they were so close. My mind was screaming at me to get away, but in the end I was limited by my crutches and my injuries.
“Aaaaaagh!” I screamed in frustration and fear as all I could do was amble along like the cripple I was while the goons surrounded me. As they swarmed on me one of them kicked my crutches away, causing me to fall down face first on the hard tarmac.
“Fuck you! Get away from me!” I spat at them in a sudden burst of courage.
As the courage drained from me the way it came, the gravity of what I said sank in. Did I just insult these guys, of all people? Really?
Oh yeah, I was dying.
“What did you say, you little punk?” the main guy asked, looking down at me. “You fucking pussy,” he snarled as he kicked me hard in the face with his boots.
As I cried out in shock and pain, the gang laughed.
“You think you’re so good at running? You think you can run?” he taunted me.
Ugh. Run. I hated that word so much.
Once upon a time, I was a runner. And a damn good one, at that. From dawn to dusk, for as long as I remember, all my efforts were focused on running around the track. Even in my resting hours, all I could dream of was fame, glory, mastery and bringing pride to everyone who stood by me.
And perhaps that could have been. But one early morning years ago, I was hit by a car. And while I got off lucky, the doctors could never fix my mangled legs. They said I would be disabled until the end of my days, by no fault of my own.
And like my legs, my aspirations, dreams and self-worth never did recover. I was reduced to working in a shitty office job, unable to live life to its fullest.
“So run,” the gangster said as he moved aside. “Run out there to that road.”
“What?” I asked.
He loaded his pistol and pointed it straight at the exit of the alley.
“So, run. And let’s see if you’re faster than my bullet.”
I stared up at him incredulously, not knowing how to respond. Like, what was he trying to do?
“Get the fuck up you cripple, I’m giving you a chance here!”
I slowly got up and stood unsteadily on my trembling legs. Oh god, it hurt so much. Where were my crutches?
Looking around me, I noticed that one, my crutches were thrown somewhere in a corner. And two, that there was literally nothing and no one near me except for the crumbling ‘hood buildings.
If I wanted help, I wouldn’t get it. I’d have to save myself.
That was my only out. And so, I didn’t look back. I ran with all my energy for what was probably the first time in years.
For some reason, I got reminded of a childhood memory.
Then, I was seven. That day, me and my dad were going out to the track in our small town to practice. And I was not happy about that, not at all.
“Daddyyyyy,” I whined as I stepped onto the track. “Everything hurts! I wanna go home!”
“You know son,” he replied calmly, “My dad taught me this little trick to motivate myself to run. You wanna know how?”
I nodded eagerly.
“When you run, just imagine there’s a big hungry bear chasing you. It wants nothing more than to gobble you up, so what would you do? Run! Never look back and just keep running!”
I don’t particularly remember what happened afterwards, but I always remembered this advice.
Well, that worked. Or did it? I continued running, but it hurt so much. My entire body was straining and burning, and I contemplated just giving up and laying down. Submitting to my fate, to die a painful death in a dirty ditch somewhere.
“Son,” I heard as I faltered. My head whipped to my side, as I tried to process what I was hearing. Was it…. my dad?
That couldn’t be. In the very same accident that took everything except my life, my dad died. He was gone, and I knew for a fact that no matter what I did, I would never spend a minute with him.
Was he really gone, though?
“It’s really me, son,” he said again.
I turned to my right, and as it turned out, he was there. Standing right there, looking the exact same as the day he died.
“Dad?” I asked him in shock.
“Go on, keep running! You can do this! Don’t just stop there!” he encouraged me.
I didn’t have to be told twice. I jetted through the road faster and faster…
Wait. I was running fast? And why did everything feel so weird?
I looked at my legs slowly. And what I saw shocked me. For the first time in so many years, they worked. My legs were whole, not irreversibly scarred and injured. And they worked.
Freed from the shackles of my condition, I made a beeline straight out of the alley. And right then, I heard a gunshot.
Bang.
The bullet whistled terrifyingly as it whizzed right past my ear. In any other situation, that near-brush with death would have had me pissing my pants in terror. However, there, I was beyond fear. I was only focused on getting out.
I rounded a corner, and there it was. Escape. An out from my predicament.
“You did it! Just a bit more! Remember what I told you? Liife is a race and you have to keep running!”
“Thanks dad,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. He did keep telling me that, but I had forgotten. For a while, I had been slowing.
As I made one last turn into the main street, I ran not into the crowded street that I left a couple minutes ago, but rather a vast stadium. Just like all the ones I ran and tasted victory in when I was still a runner.
The finishing line was right in front of me. Not very far.
I summoned the last dregs of my energy and pushed myself one final.
Three steps away.
Two steps.
One step.
As my heart thudded furiously in my chest, I leapt over the line and collapsed into an exhausted ball on the other end.
Like music to my ears, a thunderous round of applause and whistling broke out about the stadium. And loudest of all, was my dad cheering for me in the front row as he always did back in the day. “You did it champ! I knew it!” my dad yelled out at me.
As I turned to face him, my excitement drained away.
He was vanishing. Slowly, his image was
Him appearing in my darkest moment was unexpected, something I never thought would happen. But at the same time, rather inexplicably, I expected him to… stay.
“Come back!” I yelled. Irrational as it was, I hoped he would stay.
His only response was to smile cryptically as he disappeared.