Eggchucker


Small objects, big thoughts.

Small objects, big thoughts.

In spite of my good intentions, running was not an easy task today. After discovering yesterday that it was still too sunny and hot to run at six in the evening I waited an extra half an hour to get out the door in the hopes that conditions would prove more favorable to exercising. While it was certainly a more pleasant time to be out running around, it was definitely one of those days when my body was going to make exercising just as difficult and unrewarding as possible.

At first I tried to distract myself with music. This worked to a certain extent: telling myself that I would run until the end of a song at least gave me a clear goal to pursue. It got me halfway around the block- breathless, but not unnecessarily whiny about it. I took a brief walking breather on a path through a park and heard, between songs, an insistent drumming coming from a large gathering of people in the park. On first glance I had thought it was some kind of neighborhood barbecue, but on closer inspection I discovered a group of dancers wearing feathered headdresses performing for the group: not something that I ever expected to see whilst on a run.

I was on the homeward stretch of my route when the egg incident happened. I was running along the sidewalk and an egg flew across my path and smashed against a metal fencepost a few feet ahead of me at about shin height. A black four-door sedan with all the windows rolled down continued past me in the street. It missed me by a mile so I just kept running like nothing had happened. I didn’t jump. I didn’t get a jolt of adrenaline. If anything I went into a hyper-rational state while my brain worked out the formula of: “flying egg + passing sedan+ runner= attempted egging”.

Even then I didn’t stop running. I thought that I should’ve probably tried to get the license plate of the car, but since I hadn’t actually been hit I hadn’t felt the need to call for help or gather information while the window of opportunity was open. I could imagine how upset I would’ve been if I had been hit, but only in an empirical sort of way. It was a non-event. Nothing actually happened. No one was hurt. It wasn’t anything personal it was probably just teenagers acting like dildos.

Yet even being a non-event, I suddenly felt paranoid about every approaching car. I looked over my shoulder a lot more often than was absolutely necessary and found myself watching for black four-door sedans with the windows rolled down.  I crossed the street so that I would be facing oncoming traffic instead of running with it: so that any further attempted eggings would come from the front instead of behind. I was suddenly very eager indeed to read license plate numbers.

At any rate, it made me realize just how little it takes to turn a safe environment into an arena fraught with peril. While my experience was probably laughingly mild and the resulting paranoia was temporary, I can easily see how real traumas like shootings or other attacks would change a person’s whole outlook on life.

It may have been a non- event, but it certainly gave me a lot to think about.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 29, 2015.

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