River Region Runners

Column By Kym Klass
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As Brian Hicks worked his way up the last hill at the 34th Marine Corps Marathon, he was mindful of his goal: beat the first able-bodied runner.

With just yards left to the finish line, he watched that first runner -- winner John Mentzer -- pass him.

"He only got me by a few yards," Hicks, of Pike Road, said.

Tomorrow, my past is being released from prison. The stranger, the knife, the park, and the promise that if I kept quiet, I would live.

It happened on a run. And it took me 14 years to find the courage to run my roads again.

Every runner considers the roads theirs -- their purpose, their meaning. And when those roads are stripped from you, you feel violated. When you lose your sense of safety, freedom and security in the non-running world, it strips your way of life.

When it also is taken from your running world, it strips part of your soul. Part of your identity.

Runners understand that. They understand that when your peace is gone -- when the rare moments to yourself in an already busy world suddenly disappear -- you're left with ... what?

For me, fear.

Column by Kym Klass
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One evening while out running -- after it already had turned dark -- I ran down a road in my subdivision I hadn't been before.

Half-way down the street, a dog met me. Barking, growling, I could feel its breath on my calf as it ran behind me. It stopped chasing me once I passed its house, and I thought I had escaped it until I realized I had run into a cul-de-sac.