I am behind this week as I didn’t know what to write or how to.
Last week was rough.
I live in a smallish town. We’re quaint and cute and prior to COVID, tourists flocked to town for either the lake, the close ocean beaches, the outdoor concert venues or the literally hundreds of wineries and breweries. It’s entirely possible to see a Tesla and horse drawn carriage in downtown on the same day. I can literally run across town and back in a long run and go from a thriving downtown to pastures filled with cows and back again. If you drink wine or beer, you might know our name, if not, then you’d have a hard time pronouncing it.
Last week we made the national news.
Last Wednesday I woke to a shelter in place order- there was an active shooter downtown.
I didn’t know how to process it. I still don’t. It wasn’t long before the texts started coming in- what do we do? I work downtown. We told everyone to stay home.
As the news was updating and more information coming in, I realized the fireworks I had slammed my bedroom closed against in the dark of the morning had not been fireworks.
Even as I am writing this, I still don’t understand. It was 2 days of chaos that we may never have answers for. A family lost their dad as he ran into the wrong person at the wrong time and 4 officers from various agencies were hurt before it ended.
I haven’t run outside in my town since before that day.
As runners we often feel like a mile can be the farthest thing ever, lying in bed on Wednesday night, hearing the CHP helicopters and plane circling, a mile was not far enough.