I See Dead People (or What I Think About When I Run)

Yesterday, I ran the trails at Point Defiance Park and it felt great!  It had been too long.  And since it is Fall, and Fall in the park is always beautiful, I could write about the dying leaves that blanketed the ground and crunched under my footsteps.  Or the birds that rustled deep inside the bushes and startled me at every turn.  Or how wonderful the soft breeze felt on my arms and legs.  But that would be boring.  And, besides, I just told you.  So, instead, I will write about what really made my run memorable.  And how it all started with a stumble.

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I had just entered the trail, after leaving my car in the zoo parking lot, when I tripped and rolled my right ankle.  Like I said, it had been a while.  The trail was no longer familiar, its unevenness hidden beneath brown and yellow leaves.  Since it was a minor incident, just a misstep really, I kept going and promised myself I'd keep my eyes fixed firmly on the trail ahead of me. Which I did. And all was well. Until I rounded the next bend and saw The Birdwatcher.

The Birdwatcher was dressed in her usual attire: puffy, blue parka; knitted, blue cap; khaki pants, and boots that are neither brown or gray, but somewhere in between.  Topping it all off was a set of binoculars draped over her shoulders.  The Birdwatcher and I have met many times.  Surprisingly, she always seems to be there, walking the trails, whenever I am.  Yesterday, like always, she stepped all the way off the trail, held her walking stick high above the bushes, and allowed me to pass.    As I passed, I said hi, like I always do.  Keeping her back to me and her eyes on the trail, she countered with her own very serious, very gruff "Good Afternoon" which, like usual, made me feel as if I had interrupted her.    Never knowing how to respond to that, I kept on.   Soon enough, she was far behind and the trail was wide open and smooth.  Until a few turns later, when I ran into another regular.

Bike Shorts Guy was also dressed in his usual trail garb; tight, black, bike shorts, puffy blue jacket, and ankle-high gray socks that seem to really highlight his bulging calf muscles. Like The Birdwatcher before him, I always see this man on my morning runs.  Morning being the key word here. When I ran into him yesterday, though, it was 2:30..... P.M.!

Why, I wondered, were they both here now? They should be long gone.  Don't they ever leave?  Do they spend their days walking laps at the park, looking for birds, and avoiding eye contact with runners?  Befuddled, I ran on and tried to clear my mind.  The same mind that has a tendency to get a little carried away.

As I climbed the trail up to Fort Nisqually, I ran into The Dog Walkers and their fat, black Lab.  The black Lab that always hears me before I see him and lets me know it by offering up a big, loud, intimidating bark.  Like The Birdwatcher and Bike Shorts Guy before them, The Dog Walkers stepped far off the trail, shielding me from Fatty with their bodies. But it was no use, Fatty knows a dog lover and smiled up at me and gave my outstretched hand a little sniff.  Neither of his owners said hello, but nodded, their eyes, too, averted to the ground.

And that's when my imagination got the best of me.  That's when my imagination told me that these people aren't just regular seniors, out for their daily walk.  No these quiet hikers are actually dead people.    And only I can see them!  What else could explain why these silent park keepers are always here?  Regardless of what time I show up.  And what else could explain why they are always dressed in the same outfits?  And why they never look at me!

Oh no!  Maybe I didn't just stumble earlier.  Maybe I actually fell and hit my head.  Maybe I hit it so hard I don't even remember it. Because I have a concussion!  Or, maybe now I'm dead too!  Only I don't know it yet!  And that's why they won't look me in the eye!  They don't want to be the ones to tell me!

I picked up my pace, felt my head for lumps, bumps, cuts and blood.  I didn't feel any signs of trauma.  Nothing to indicate my earlier stumble was anything more than that...just a stumble.

As I rounded the last bend in the trail, I saw my car.  Right where I left it.  I saw an escaped peacock walking in the dirt.  I saw a Grandmother pushing her grandson in a stroller.  And she saw me!  Smiled at me even!  So I couldn't be dead!  Then she said, "hi, how was your run?"

Oh it was great!  Quiet, peaceful and absolutely not filled with dead people.

I said that last part very quietly, and with eyes averted to the ground.

Then I got in my car and had a serious talk with my imagination.