Running Scared Sometimes you have to run, no matter where you go, so long as you know why. And so long as you get there quickly.

My best friend Eric and I were nine years old and out pretending like we owned the world. (We of course didn’t, but in all fairness to us, we saw the world so differently that the world we saw, we certainly did own.) We were walking back from the mall and came to a bridge going over a main road. As young boys will do, we stopped to spit on the cars driving by underneath. One of the cars slowed down and yelled at us, and it was our imagination that truly scared us enough to escape.

We ran as fast as we could off the bridge, then through a tunnel and up a hill. We ran through grass and through bushes and finally stopped, hiding behind a tree. We cowered there until we were convinced that the guy wasn't looking for us, and when we walked home much later we took the long back way.

Having that kind of fear behind you lets you do incredible things. For us, it was a ten second sprint across the universe. And I haven't spat off a bridge in twenty years.  ¶ 10:02 PM