Where The Numinous Awaits

Ch. 3: Dex's Life's Work

August 14 | Day

It was the first week of the fall semester, and the acreage in front of the Student Union was abuzz with activity. I had just come from my lunch break. Students milled about, chatting and laughing, while tables and booths were set up by various clubs and organizations trying to attract new members. I sought a route to avoid the noise and bedlam until I spotted the Forager's Club huddled under a tent.

A coed I recognized beckoned for me. "Dr. Rodriguez! Come introduce yourself!"

They were offering free samples of wild-crafted foods, and I smelled freshly picked berries and mushrooms as I ambled to the table. "Dr. Dex Rodriguez, at your service. Hi, guys! I teach mycology classes here. The Forager's Club is a fantastic way to meet new people and learn about the local ecosystem. If you enjoy exploring the great outdoors, this is definitely the club for you."

"You don't look old enough to be teaching here," a student remarked.

"Well, I am, but I get that a lot!" I laughed.

Incoming freshmen bombarded me with questions about my course, and I patiently answered until a football player jostled into our table. "Check it out, it's the nature weirdos," he jeered. My eyes narrowed with contempt. I had a thing about name-calling, particularly when it came from immature jerks.

"Actually," I told him, "you have environmentally conscious people like us to thank for your beautiful football field. I suggest you show some respect."

"Man, get outta here. Respect is reserved for the warriors." He nudged his athletic companions.

I felt my temper rising. "You wouldn't know a warrior if one knocked you on your butt." I pointed toward the area of the field where the sports teams were set up. "I'll meet you on your own turf and show you what a forager can do."

"Alright! Bet." He grinned.

Hearing the challenge, my students urged me to let loose, no doubt eager to see me shed my professional demeanor and have fun with them. They followed us across the field, and I took my place at the beginning of an obstacle course that had been erected to raise money for charity. I was dressed in a business casual pantsuit and pumps for work. But I kicked off my heels and took off my blazer to catcalls and wolf-whistles that made me scoff.

I stretched my neck from side to side. Out of my periphery, I saw my opponent do the same. The burly linebacker joked with his teammates about how he would smoke my ass. I hid a smile as I crouched in position, awaiting the signal to go.

As soon as it was given, I leaped across the foam pads suspended precariously above a muddy water tank. The foam jiggled with each hop, trying to throw me off balance, but I kept my footing and launched myself from the last pad at full speed. I needed the running start to propel me up the ten-foot graffiti wall that curved ahead of me. A glance to my left showed my opponent was hitting the wall with the same agility.

On the other side was a massive inflatable slide. I pulled my arms in close to my body and crossed my legs at the ankles to increase my speed as I flew to the bottom. Then I scrambled up a fifteen-foot wall of fences and reached a cargo net that we were meant to shimmy across. As I lithely swung over the rolling bar at the top, my opponent's strength began to wane. With teeth bared in a grin, I sprinted over to the next obstacle.

The call of competition had awakened my inner wolf. The long strides of my legs and the pumping of my arms brought out the wildness in me. Blood rushing in my ears drowned out the sound of students cheering me on from the sidelines. To my work colleagues, it had to look like I had lost my ever-loving mind. No sane, sensible professor would be tackling an obstacle course to prove a point. I hadn't even broken a sweat.