Damian Hall Running Scared Moment

* I’d been running since five o’clock in the morning on the South West Coast Path, pushing through the deep fatigue that can cause things to get exaggerated in my mind. Around nine or ten at night, I ran past a man who was startled by my headtorch. When I told him I was running, he was clearly drunk. The situation escalated immediately when he took his top off and declared, "Oh, run with you!". I thought, I don't like this, instantly putting fear in my head that he wanted to attack me What did he do? * [[Rather than fight, I decided I might as well jog on—or, more accurately, sprint. I ran even faster, determined to escape the drunk man I feared was going to try and attack me. But the deep fatigue and the uneven path were a dangerous combination. I suddenly tripped on some brambles, tumbling head over heels into the bushes. My headtorch fell off, plunging me into darkness, and I found myself all cut up all over my legs and arms from the thorns. As I tried to recover, he instantly turned and asked, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?". I realized I had totally misjudged the situation; he was just some drunk guy who fancied a bit of a jog, and I had put all that fear in my head unnecessarily.]] * [[I pulled up abruptly, raising my hands and gasping out a plea for him to stay back. "I'm running a long distance race, I can't slow down," I insisted, praying my voice sounded firmer than the sheer terror I felt, fearing he wanted to attack me. The man, clearly drunk, swayed slightly in my headlamp beam. "Race?" he mumbled, squinting at my shirtlessness. "My dog’s name was Race." He then leaned in confidentially. "I just need a friend," he confessed loudly, and without warning, began weeping inconsolably about something unrelated to running. I stood frozen on the path, unable to flee a sobbing stranger yet knowing that every second lost to this awkward, non-violent standoff was ruining the pace I had maintained since five o’clock in the morning. ]] * [[I need to disappear. I decided that instead of accelerating—a choice complicated by the exhaustion from deep fatigue—I would rely on stealth. I hit the switch, extinguishing my headlamp, and dove off the trail into the darkest shadows. The drunk man shouted, "Where'd you go? Come run with me!" His footsteps, heavy and erratic, passed right by my hiding spot. I heard a loud, sickening crack nearby, followed by a curse, as he stumbled and kicked something solid—the pole of a trail marker. He seemed to recover instantly and kept staggering forward down the path, now nursing a sore foot but completely oblivious to my location. I was safe, but my desperate maneuver had left me without my headlamp, and now I had to navigate the treacherous South West Coast Path in absolute darkness]]

[[Congratulations you picked the right passage. Now enjoy the rest of the podcast]]

[[nope, not it either]]

[[sorry, this is not what happenend]]