THE OLD WOMAN AND THE SEE

It started off as a typical day. I was out for one of my routine morning runs. As I rounded a corner, off in the distance I could see an older woman heading in my direction walking her dog. As I got closer to the woman I noticed that she veered into my running path, had her dog sit and waited for me to pass. As I passed her her dog barked a little and took a lunge towards me. The lunge startled me a little, so I went out further into the street to avoid being bitten. I was both furious (or livid, whichever is worse) for several reasons. Firstly, my assumption has been that when you’re walking on the street, a person should always stay to the right, similar to our traffic flow. Since I was running with traffic, and she was walking against traffic, she could see what was coming at her and I couldn’t, hence the unspoken courtesy.

Additionally, being an older white woman, and me being a black male, I couldn’t help but to conjure up what seemed to me to be her feelings of privilege. I could’ve been off - way off, but in the moment I allowed my anger to take me there. With that I also unknowingly gave her power in my life. As I carried on with my run all I could think about was what would happen the next time we encountered each other. Especially since I run almost the same route daily.

It should be noted too that when I run I carry a small knife - and I carry it just for the aforementioned reason - not the woman, the dog - just in case I come across an aggressive one. Not sure if I’d ever really use it, but it does provide a sense of security. My initial thoughts were that - the next time I saw the woman I would tell her that if her dog lunged at me or attempted to bite me, I would stab it to both protect and defend myself. That specific conversation played over again and again in my mind. Couldn’t wait to have it. Or could I?

I saw her a few more times and didn’t respond. The same exact scenario. What was I afraid of? What I was starting to realize was that I seemed to get angrier and angrier each time I came across her and her dog. And her dog seemed to get less and less aggressive.

Then it happened. I was out for a run - but this time I was actually anticipating running into her. Having the conversation over and over in my mind. Then she appeared. However, much earlier in my run then I would normally see her. As I saw her in the near distance my heart began racing; anxiety peaking. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. I wanted to stop running, and physiologically it felt like my body wanted to do the same, but I didn’t. I just slowed down. As I got closer to the woman, she did what was expected, moving into the inside of the sidewalk and stopping with her dog. As my emotions were peaking something inside of me made me stop and speak. In my anxiety ridden, exercised state I whimpered, “Mam, can you please stay on the outside with your dog when I’m running by?”. Firstly, seemingly alarmed that I stopped to talk to her, she responded, “This is what I’m supposed to do”. We then went on to have a brief conversation as to why she should stay on the outside with her dog. Just over a minute into our conversation, she agreed with me and said that she understood my point. At that point I thanked her and continued on with my run. It took me at least another ten to fifteen minutes to run through my anxiety - and I’m happy I did it - keep running that is. What I’m not happy with is the fact that I let somebody - somebody I didn’t even know - have power and control in my life. So much power that when I saw them I almost, literally, died. Wow. As I finished my run and began cooling down on the walk back home that’s all I could thing about.

I hadn’t even spoken to this woman, but the enormity of the narrative that I created about her in my head and amplified by the sight of her was debilitating. And we’d never even spoken. Then when the opportunity arose, coupled with the necessary courage, I decided to face the apparent threat head on. And as the threat responded, possibly sensing my awkward anger, she slowly chipped away at my preconceived notions about her.

We all subject ourselves to these preconceived notions about other people and their doings everyday. And the overwhelming majority of us never seek real answers, and alternatively create these dangerous narratives about others all whilst the opportunity for real answers passes with every encounter.

I’ll forever be thankful for the lesson that the old woman taught me - about how, once planted, the seeds of evil thoughts can quickly blossom into unfounded anger and rage when left unaddressed. And that, most importantly, the awkwardness of confronting the seeds, is a small price to pay for long term peace of mind.

I haven’t seen my former foe in a few weeks. As mentioned, she was a little up there in age. Didn’t seem that old, but you never know. I do have something to say to her though - but this time it comes from a place of gratitude. I want to thank her for teaching me one of the most powerful lessons I’ve ever learned - one that I think I’ve learned before, but needed to be refreshed. That when you allow small things, things that could be classified as irritants, go unaddressed, they can fester and infect your whole being - just waiting to be set off by the right, often unintended, trigger.

I’m not sure if I’ll actually say all that, but I will, at minimum, greet her with graciousness and a warm smile.

We must face our problems, head on - optimally, as they occur. Not doing so affords the unaddressed problem the space to grow - allowing it to leach into other regions, amplify other issues and, worst of all, affect our well being.

I’m thankful for the lesson, and more importantly, hopeful that I’ll be able to share it with her one day on one of my morning runs. I know that I’ll be nervous though - and that my anxiety level will rise - because I’m having to confront something again. But I also know that my recovery time will be quicker, because the gratitude is sincere, and it’s coming from the heart.