It was a very cold, snowy morning and I contemplated throwing the covers over my head and going back to sleep. The weatherman said it was 25 degrees outside with a wind chill of -5. A typical February day in Columbus, Ohio. Next week, it'll probably be 75 and too warm to run! I Reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and put on my Under Armour running tights and super-insulated hoodie. I grabbed a hat, gloves, my i-pod and huge Bose headphones, of course. What’s a run without good music or my running app breaking in every mile with words of encouragement? “Mile 4. Average time: 8.5 minute mile. Calories burned: 485".
“Come on, Drake. Let’s go!” I yelled to my pup. Unbeknownst to him, we were training for a ½ marathon. According to Hal Higdon’s Half Marathon Training Guide, we were to run 10 miles that morning to stay on track for an upcoming race in NYC. I felt a little guilty, however, because I had a trip to NY planned with 3 friends with reservations made well in advance to kick-ass restaurants, massages, tours of museums, a Broadway show, and a 13.1 mile run through Central Park with thousands of other women. What did Drake get? None of that. But he DID get to spend hours and hours pounding the pavement with me. Quality time.
I opened the front door and instantly felt the bitter cold hit my body. Alright, Hal, we’re gonna do what you told us to do whether we want to or not. 10 miles. I could hear the crunching of snow beneath my feet while Justin Timberlake sang all about bringing “Sexyback” through my noise cancelling headphones. We had a great rhythm going. Before I knew it, Drake and I had run 5 miles.
We ran through the city admiring the huge drifts of snow created by the plows from the night before, the birds clamoring around freshly-filled bird feeders, and the few Christmas decorations that were still up despite the fact it was early February. I get it. It's cold and a lot of work to put that shit away only to pack up for next year. A few weeks from now? Get that Santa off the roof of your house, for God's sake, it’s nearly Spring.
“Mile 6. Average speed: 7.0 minute mile”. Ha! I normally averaged an 8.5 minute mile. I found it interesting, depending on where I was in the city, my speed changed. In the safety of my neighborhood and surrounded by familiar sights, I ran at a pretty normal clip (as my dad would say). Once I hit territory that made me uneasy, I picked up the pace quite a bit. For example, one day I happened to be running across an overpass and stumbled upon a drug deal going down. None of that bothered me, and to be honest, I considered it none of my business until someone yelled at me to “keep running”. Um...ok. I wasn’t really interested in sticking around. Another example was when Drake was attacked by an unleashed dog...and that's exactly where I was when my running app broke in and announced I was breaking records (well, my own record anyway).
On this particular run, I was headed back into the "safety" of my own neighborhood and was thankful it had been uneventful except for the frigid temps.
Suddenly, I felt like someone was watching me. I kept running and singing along to 50 Cent (yeah, I know, but ‘In da Club’ can be quite motivating especially toward the end of a long run). Only 2 more miles. As I belted out “You can find me in da club, bottle full of bub…” I realized that someone was not only watching me, but whomever it was was running behind me shouting, “HEY! HEY!” I slowed down, took my headphones off, and turned around to see who it was. To my surprise, it was a man named Joel who had done work on my house a few years ago.
I had been taken advantage of by both him and his wife on several occasions. I’d take them to the grocery store when they were running low on food, I gave Joel a ride to and from work when needed, I made sure their electric bill was paid on occasion, etc. I also paid for Suboxone for Joel to help kick his drug habit. Until I found out he wasn’t taking it. He was selling it.
Because he lived a very chaotic, drug-induced life, I was surprised to see him alive. He was VERY much alive and running toward me.
“Hey! Hey! I want you to know something,” Joel said with a huge smile that showed off his jack-o’-lantern teeth. He had lost most of his them due to excessive drug use. He weighed about 90 lbs, and although I knew he was around my age, he looked way older. The last I heard, his wife had died of an overdose and Joel was still working for an asshole that ran him ragged and treated him like shit. So, knowing a little bit of what his life had been like the last couple of years, I was surprised that his blue eyes had a sparkle in them and his smile was genuine.
“Susan! I want you to know something!”
“What is it?”, I asked cautiously.
"I’m SAVED!” Huh. In my mind, I’m thinking, from what? Saved from an overdose? Saved from the cops? Saved from being homeless? Saved from your asshole boss? Saved from getting your ass kicked by your drug dealer?
So I reluctantly ask, “Saved from what, Joel?”
“Saved from my sins. Jesus saved me. I have a new beginning and a new life. I’m happy now and I’m sorry that I screwed you over back then. So, I’m saved and sorry all at one time.”
He sounded and looked very relieved to tell me this. The toothless grin never left his face. I told him I was glad that he had found some peace and gave him a big hug... all bones. Now he needed to gain some weight. I put my headphones back on and ran the last 2 miles in silence. I didn’t hit play. For some reason, “In da Club” didn’t seem very appropriate at the moment. Instead, I finished my run deep in thought.
Fast forward a couple of years and I hear that Joel is still working for a man that treats him terribly. I wonder if he’s still “saved” and clean. Hopefully he’s gained a few pounds. I wonder if his eyes are still sparkling. Then, out of the blue, just like on that cold day, I hear from Joel but it’s a phone call and he sounds horrible. “hey. hey”, he said not so loud and happy. His words were barely above a whisper. I’m pretty confident those blue eyes weren't sparkling. There was no trace of a jack-o’-lantern smile behind his voice.
“Hi, Joel”, I say. “What’s wrong.”
“I need help. I need help, please. I’m in a hospital and I need a few bucks to buy a few items to survive. I went back to using. I’m withdrawing and I feel like shit. I need a friend.” We talked for about an hour and he told me that he couldn’t take the pressure of life anymore. He was still mourning the loss of his wife and now several of his friends. He found his boss dead when he reported to work one morning. He lost it. “Saved” or not, anyone’s world would look pretty bleak given the circumstances. I told him I’d come see him in the hospital.
A few days later, I was being patted down by a security officer before I could see Joel. I breathed in deeply. I had no idea what I was walking into. As I entered Joel’s dark room, I noticed the IV’s sticking out of his skinny arms. His bare feet looked grey and cold...I covered them up with a blanket. I didn’t realize Joel had hair because he always wore a hat. It was a mess. His eyes had no sparkle. His face was gaunt. He was shaking.
“Joel, I brought you a few bucks. And some socks. And a sweatshirt cuz I know how cold these places can get and a hospital gown isn’t enough. I brought you a pillow. A comfortable one. I know you like sweets and they said I could give you this bag of M&M’s. I get that right now, you don’t feel like you have a lot left in you...but you do.”
He turned to face me. He was very weak and I could tell by his movements that he was in pain. He mouthed the words, “thank you” to me. We sat in silence while I rubbed his hands and feet for about an hour. A nurse came in to take his vitals and I took that as my cue to leave. I said good-bye and walked out of the room. I sat in my car in tears and felt conflicted. "Now what?"
I wish I could say I did more for him. I didn’t. I couldn’t . The situation was beyond my expertise. He was in the hands of the professionals now. I want to believe he got the help he so desperately needed and that he has overcome his addictions and is living a happy life with a few extra pounds on that small frame. I wonder if those blue eyes are sparkling again. I'd love to see that jack-o'lantern smile as he yells, "I'm saved!" as I'm running down the street on a cold, winter morning. I don't think that will happen.
If only I could tell Joel that I benefited as much as he did from our brief friendship. He taught me how to be more compassionate and understanding of people who are different from me. Even though Joel relapsed, he showed strength that most people don't have. I commend him for trying so desperately to overcome adversity. I can only hope he's used that incredible strength and will to survive to continue to live a life full of happiness and peace.