On this episode, Aaron’s story leads us into a discussion on what is it about humans that cause us to ignore common sense, pushing our bodies to the absolute limits? Is it truly fighting through the pain, adrenaline, or something more?
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Welcome to Smirk. A podcast that covers society and culture through a storytelling lens. Part creative writing, part discussion, and always interesting. Each week our hosts brings a story to the show, a story they wrote themselves, which is immediately followed by discussion on the author’s moral or theme.
These stories can cover any topic the host wants to discuss, it can be lighthearted or more serious. No one but the author knows if these tales are truth or fiction, and part of the fun is guessing while you’re listening before the reality is made clear.
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Want to read Aaron’s story “Adrenaline” in full? Think you can identify the moral or theme for this episode? Read it below, and then take a listen to the podcast.
Adrenaline
It’s been a long ride and I could definitely use a quick nap, but I’m ready for a run, I told myself as our truck pulled up to the driveway.
Having been on the road for almost 14 hours straight, returning back from a vacation stacked full of memories, I thought my body would just collapse into a puddle of mush on my queen sized slice of heaven.
It didn’t. Instead, my body needed a cathartic release.
It is hard to explain to others why it is I love to run. Hell, even I don’t know sometimes. It’s not the enjoyment of it, because it’s never truly fun. It’s not the exercise of it either; there are better ways to keep fit, most of them far easier of my aging frame. No, it’s something about being outside, alone with my thoughts. I can contemplate so many of life’s curveballs on those few miles that by the time I finish, occasionally I feel like I’ve conquered the world. Or maybe it’s that rush of adrenaline as I approach a goal, or happen to push myself just a LITTLE bit further this time. Knowing you’ve beaten your best self always awakens the soul.
A quick nap might be smarter, but screw it, I’m heading out. Time to strap on my shoes and put these feet to pavement. Better yet, let’s hit a trail instead. Nothing is more peaceful than a run on a quiet park trail just before dusk.
I hit the trail and pick up my stride, working to adjust my footing as I go, as trails can change in an instant. I briefly take my eyes off the trail to admire the vista in front of me. Luscious trees, the gradually increasing song of local crickets picking up pace, the sun slowly beginning its eventual descent into its nightly solitude. It’s a stunning day for a run. This was absolutely the right call.
I rounded the trail. Four miles after I started, I’m now following the lake side, quickly approaching the car. A group of fellow runners whip by and I have to stand still at the side, as this trail is simply too narrow to field so many at once. We give each other that knowing wave, the one you give when you’re kicking ass and taking names on the trail, and then I get back on my way.
In the distance, my car materializes into view, this is the final stretch. It’s the most beautiful section of this particular trail, as the entirety of it follows the edge of the lake. It’s how I always end my runs, rewarding myself by finishing with the best view in the park.
As I close in on the final 100 yards or so, I notice two children playing by the lake, right off the trail. Maybe 5 or 6 years old, these kids are WAY too young to be unattended to. Maybe 50 feet away, I see their mother, looking the other way, babbling to someone on the phone. The children are getting closer to the lake, their playful attitudes blissfully unaware of the immediate depths that lay in those inviting waters. I look at them, and then back at their oblivious mother, and my Spidey sense begins to tingle.
They edged closer…I begin to slow down my pace…and then closer…oh my god, they’re going to fall in…
My body ROCKETED towards the ground before I had any idea what happened. It is times like these I really regret not investing in full body pads. It happened so quick, I could not even brace myself for the impact, smashing my entire body, face, and hands into the dirt.
It took a minute to regain my faculties. My first thought was the children, Dad instincts are a powerful force not to be trifled with. Thankfully, they were fine, as their delightful gem of a mother ushered them towards their car, forever instructing these children to ignore those in distress.
That didn’t matter though, because all was well. No blame here, this was all on me. I knew better, you never take your eyes off the trail on a run, yet everything worked out. A bad tumble, but the kids were ok and that’s what mattered.
I finally felt secure enough in my composure to pick myself up. A bit embarrassed, but thankfully close enough to my car to drive away from this humiliation expeditiously. I managed to prop myself up on my legs when I immediately collapsed to the ground. My right leg had given out. It made sense, I did take a bit of a fall. My body just needed a minute to recover.
I wait 10 minutes and begin to lift myself up. The pain was horrendous, like 100 baby knives were stabbing my entire right side all at once. Again, I collapsed under the agony of it all. 30 minutes went by, and the pain worsened. I looked at my car, now only hundreds of feet away, and I knew I could not make it. I had to accept it, I could not walk. And no amount of adrenaline could change what I now knew to be true: I really should have taken that nap.