Are you scared of the dark in those inky swells beyond your mother-promised and carrot-granted night sight? Did your parents ever follow you in the car, headlights dimmed in the night, as you strode through fast repeats on your neighborhood loop? Do you carry mace, or perhaps a small squirt bottle of ammonia water, either to fend off a potential attacker or vicious, unleashed dog? Ever been warned of places to run around or not through, regardless of the light of day? Hear the stories of the Central Park Jogger? Our brains, the media, our society and the season may all induce some degree of stress in any runner, but especially the female.

Fear, that emotion which has primed us all for survival, seems to be more of an accessory than the necessary sensation of pain, but is inherent in the stimulation of that self-defensive “fight or flight” reaction. You know, that one in which your heart nearly pounds through your chest, you’ve clearly pitted out your shirt, your blood pressure is off the charts, etc. Adrenaline, cortisol and the other hormones gushing out of your adrenal gland in this moment are meant only to sustain your (a) altercation or (b) flee. This rush, then, does not fuel a seven-mile steady state nor a progressive long run – nor does it supplement either a cocky elite runner or an oblivious jogger’s confidence.
Maybe if we could call on that surge only when we need just that, when we lack the mere second to call on fleet-of-foot Hermes. Maybe if we prepare and smarten up, we can train more assuredly, more relaxed and confidently. When we’re running through winter’s murkiness, smart companies provide tools we may or may not utilize - such as reflective vests and headlamps.


More essential, I think, is the tool of common sense. To what extent do we perceive our safety? I know my imagination flourishes with the sensationalized news stories and neighborhood lore about Where Not To Run. I know my rebellion against the caution to not respond to cat-call, and flipping a bird to a construction worker, does little to increase my athletic or spiritual strength. But I also know how some choices I make, such as blasting Radiohead on an iPod during a pre-dawn run, limit my ability to sense safety and respond to fear.

Considering fear in certain situations is essential – as exemplified by my experience being chased on the Portland To Coast by a lonely coyote while I welded a dying flashlight, and another experience last week nearly running head-on into a man in the pitch-black of Tryon Creek Park. However beneficial exercising caution is, especially in light of web-broadcasted, fear-laced forums, I find exercising more beneficial than not...especially in the dark.

I can run, prepared for darkness and doldrums, whether led by fear’s adrenaline rush. I find faith under stars that recede into the dark with the light of the day, and courage with missteps that test my certainty. Who is not scared to be tested? Whatever degree of fear is inevitable, unrational and excessive fear is harmful in itself. No one is holding our hands as we run through this or that; we get to advocate for ourselve, encourage our own confidence and seek patience with our own paths.