Great Strides

I Can Run

“But in the moment, it didn’t matter whether it was true or not – what mattered was showing kindness.”

It’s Valentine’s Day. I step outside from the chiropractor’s office (I’ve been having some hip issues – one thing I’ll say about running. It teaches you where you need to build strength). I’m definitely not dressed to run – we’re talking clunky Bogg boots, a f luffy white parka, a great big purse banging against my side, plus I’m just leaving from an alignment, so my body is feeling a little off.

There’s a man and a woman across the street. She cries out, “Oh, he’s got my wallet! Come back!” just like a scene in the movies. I mean, just like a scene in the movies – I didn’t even know such things happened that way in real life. At 11:30 in the morning. In Edmonton. There’s nobody on the road except for me and them. My only thought was, ‘well, I can run.’ My fight-or-f light instinct took over. The repercussions of what could happen if I caught him didn’t enter my mind as I began chasing him down. I could see another man walk toward the thief in the distance, so I scream to the man to stop him. He looks right at me and promptly walks into an office building.

I keep running, still about a half block behind. The man I’m chasing turns into a parking lot and I yell at another bystander to help me, and am ignored. The thief turns into an alley and I follow. Now I think I’ve lost him.

I’m moving forward, slowly, and he comes out from behind a dumpster. He holds out the wallet and says, “OK, I can’t do this anymore.” I think he means the running.

Now he’s apologizing profusely, and he’s holding out the wallet, but his other hand is in his pocket, so I’m a little nervous. So, I take out my phone and photograph him; somehow, it seems like an intimidating thing to do. He takes his other hand (which is thankfully empty) out of his pocket, and he hands me the stolen wallet.

Now the owner of the wallet has caught up to us. And we’re all still here. I wasn’t really expecting that he was going to stick around. I thought he’d drop that wallet and run. Both the man and the wallet owner are quite upset and I’m just trying to diffuse an emotional situation. I figure the best way to resolve it is to throw in some positive vibes. “Would you like to get a coffee?” To my surprise, the thief says yes. We walk into Credo Café, a popular spot downtown near the alleyway. I order him a large coffee (to stay) and myself a small (to go). We sit down on the couches, and he tells me that he was visiting Edmonton with friends from Calgary and that they abandoned him. He just needs money for a Greyhound home. Afterward, a lot of people said to me “Ah, that’s the oldest trick in the book, he was totally lying to you.” But in the moment, it didn’t matter whether it was true or not – what mattered was showing kindness.

When I get back to the office, the adrenalin starts wearing off and I’m a bit shaky. I call the police and report what happened and I do what people do when they’re shocked about something nowadays – I make an Instagram post. It was definitely meant to be a “Holy crap” post, not a “Look at me” one.

If this had happened a few years ago, I might not have chased after him. I maybe would have gone over to the woman and tried to console her. My dedication to running really only started in the fall. I’d gone through some difficult personal stuff last year. I’ll spare you the details, but with therapy, reading and ref lection, running seemed like a natural extension, a way to set goals, learn about my body, to realize my strength and appreciate the joy in movement.

That thought I had: I can run. I think that says a lot about what running does for people. It gives us confidence in our abilities. Tess Aboughoushe ran her first half-marathon (a 1:52 in -33 C conditions) in February. She plans to run a race a month this spring and summer: the Jasper Canadian Rockies Half-Marathon, the Calgary Marathon, the Canadian River Valley Revenge in June and finally, her big goal race: the Spartan Beast 55K.