Ben Johnson

The Runner In The Woods Meets a Friend

I was jogging through the woods. The wind was blowing in my face, and I felt cold tears running from my eyes. It was blurry in front of me, and I had to be extra careful to avoid stumbling over a rogue root or rock in my path. I suppose I was so concentrated on being alert to those obstacles that I didn’t even hear the man approach.

                  “Where are you headed?” he asked me from behind.

                  I looked around, startled to hear his voice. At first, in consequence of my blurred vision, he was a haze of blue and black. But soon his defined shape came into focus, and I realized he was a nice looking man, with a cheery disposition. He was about the same height as I, wearing a blue running jacket, and black running pants. His hair was brown, and just long enough to see a hint of waviness in it.

                  He smiled at me as he asked again, “Where are you headed?”

                  “Nowhere in particular,” I said, “I’ll probably turn out onto the bike path in a few minutes. It’s much easier to run out there than it is in here.”

                  “Yes, that’s what a lot of runners do when they run through here.” He said this with the air of an expert on the topic of runners. “They like how the bike path is straight, and paved, and there aren’t so many stumbling obstacles along the way.”

                  I agreed with him, and told him about how I didn’t even hear him coming because of how alert I was being to those stumbling obstacles.

                  “Yea, you’ve got to be careful out here. But then again, you’ve got to be careful on the bike path too. You know, once I was running on the bike path, and I tried passing this one runner, but you know what he did? As soon as I got beside him, and he saw I was trying to pass him, he told me I shouldn’t. And when I didn’t back away, he shoved me into the trees along the bike path.”

                  I acknowledged that I had almost had an accident on the bike path too, and then went on to tell him about how once I had been running on the bike path, and I almost tripped over a dead squirrel that was lying in the middle of the path.

                  “You see! That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about here! You can’t trust these woods for safe running; you can’t trust the bike path for safe running! So where can you find some safe running?”

                  “I don’t know.” I said, feeling kind of dumb with such a simple answer.

                  “I’ll tell you where.” He said. “Follow me; it’s a little up the way. There’s this beautiful long path, through a field that has never been touched, except by me. It’s straight as an arrow, not a rock or root in site, just smooth sailing. Or smooth running I should say. I guess we aren’t sailors are we?”

                  I smiled at this comment. The man was very pleasant and inviting. I decided that I might as well follow him. If the path turned out to be less than what he said, I could simply turn around and go back to the bike path.

                  So, on we ran.

                  It wasn’t very far until we took a left turn down a path, which until that day, I had never noticed before. Not long after the turn, the trees became less dense, and soon we were fully immersed in a yellow and green field. The two of us ran side by side down the center of the field, on the path that the man had described. Tall waving grass was on either side of us, about waist high. The sun was shining very brightly, and not a cloud was in the sky. There was no need to look at the ground for roots or stones, because not even a fluctuation in the dirt was visible. Soon this field had some strange and intoxicating effect on me, and I suddenly felt free and joyous! I speeded up, and passed my companion in a rush of wonderful adrenaline. I felt as though I was no longer running, but flying, and infinity was my limit. But then my spirits plummeted as I suddenly felt the ground beneath me disappear, and I looked down to witness my feet stepping uncontrollably into a murky hole about twice my height. I fell face first but did a half flip and landed on my back. The fall wasn’t as painful as it could have been, but it hurt a lot even so. I did not dare get up, with the fear of hearing a snap in my back or arm. I decided to wait for the man, hoping he’d be along soon to help.

                  Within about two minutes my spirits were lifted as my friend peaked his head over the top of the hole. “Are you okay?” he shouted.

                  “I think so, but I’m not going to move, just in case. Go get some help!”

                  “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

                  And with that his head was gone.

                  An hour went by, and he didn’t return. I kept as calm as I possibly could, down in that hole. Another hour went by, and then another, and another. I passed the time by watching the clouds, far up above.

                  By what must have been my fifth hour in the hole I decided to get up, and sure enough, I heard a painful snap, and I lied back down. Now I was dirty, in pain, and lying in a hole. I was starting to doubt that man would ever be back to rescue me. I would be stuck in this hole forever.

                  Despair started to cloud my mind, but horror soon replaced it when I realized that I had been feeling raindrops for the past several minutes. Then the horror was solidified as it started pouring the rain down in trenches. The dirt started turning to slippery mud, and sliding down all around me. It soon covered my chest and was creeping up to my face. Within moments I felt the terrible taste of mud in my mouth, and soon I could feel it in my nose and in my ears. And then the rain came down and down, never even considering the man it was now drowning. Oh what a different story my life would have been, if only I had taken the bike path.

                  Why did I trust my friend?