Unexpected

1

The crisp March air bit at my overheated cheeks, a thin layer of sweat covered the nape of my neck and I regretted my last-minute decision to wear a fleece pullover on my early morning run. It was unusually warm out for an early March morning and it had me longing for Summer. I couldn't wait for the outdoor community pool to reopen, for the break from school and most of all beach volleyball.

      Volleyball no matter what kind would always be my favourite sport, that was uncontestable, but there was a huge difference between throwing yourself onto a linoleum gym floor to keep a play alive whereas a sandy beach. I was glad beach volleyball left me with significantly less bruises as it would be quite hard to hide them under my summer wardrobe that consisted of shorts and bikini tops for the most part.

As if to remind me that it was March and not July, it began to drizzle as if someone literally wanted to rain all over my parade. I grit my teeth annoyed that nature couldn't schedule its watering after I'd finished my sixth lap of the mile-long loop. That was one thing I hated about living in Romeo, Michigan. The fall was long, the winter even longer, and the summers crushingly short.

I decided to pick up my pace in a vain attempt to not be completely drenched by the time I was done. Nothing was worse than driving home in damp spandex, it made my skin crawl and it made it all that much harder to peel off. Maybe the fleece pullover had been a good idea after all as it was one more layer between me and mother's nature's rogue sprinkler.

Rep the set, gotta rep the set, chase a check, never chase a bitch

The heavy bass and accompanying flute thumped through the Dr. Dre Beat headphones I favoured for my runs. The crisp sound, heavy bass were why I'd splurged on them in the first place, but the fact that they kept my ears warm was just an added bonus.

Just as I was rounding the corner that lead into the thickest part of the shrubbery that bordered either side of the rural trail, a hand shot out from the bushes and brushed up against my black spandex covered leg.

I let out a shriek, jumping away from the offending appendage. The reaching hand quickly transformed into the body of a middle-aged man. He had unkempt rust coloured hair, a smattering of wrinkles, and a thick beard that almost obscured the sinister looking smile adorning his face.

Fear, pure and utter fear courses through me as I stood a mere finger's brush away from the man. A stranger who had tried to grab me, who had tried to drag me into the bushes. My heart was racing, worse than through any workout I'd ever had, and I was scared it would burst out of my chest at any moment's notice.

I knew that I couldn't stand there anymore, that the stupid few seconds I'd stood there hesitating had already been a mistake. Soon one of us would come out of this weird false sense of calm that had settled over us, and if it wasn't me who made the first move to get away, I knew I'd be regretting it for the rest of my life.

Despite having seen less than a handful of scary movies, I was still armed with the knowledge that you didn't wait around to see what the creepy old guy wanted. No, you run. You run until your lungs are burning, your face is beet red, and you run until you can't run any more.

So that's what I did, I ran and ran and ran. I ran past the parking lot, knowing I wouldn't stand a chance if I tried to fumble for my keys and jump into my Jeep. I ran past the baseball diamonds, basketball hoops, and park's winding entrance.

As my lungs screamed and thighs burned, I couldn't help but be grateful I had been attacked at mile four and not six when I still had speed in my legs, and they weren't quite yet Jell-O.