I stepped out for an 18 mile training walk this morning. I
knew I wasn’t going to make it the whole way for a variety of reasons but I
expected to do much more than the 5 miles I did put in. Due to many reasons
including a 3:00 A.M. bedtime (I couldn’t fall asleep earlier than that) and
feeling violently dizzy, nauseated, and overheated I decided that I better just
be smart about it and let the group I was walking with get back to their
training without worrying about me lagging behind. Heather, if you’re reading this, thank you for
making sure I was okay!
I called my husband to let him know I wasn’t feeling well
and that I was on my way home. I pulled up Google Maps to find how to get back
to my car since I was in unfamiliar territory, and started my jaunt back to the
car. As I followed the road ahead of me I came to a point where what I call my “Native
American Tracker senses” told me I should go right but the GPS said left. So,
left I went. I passed a hospital and thought to myself “At least I’m in the
right spot if I collapse out here by myself!” Just passed the hospital was a
retirement home. As I passed that and headed up the hill something just didn’t
feel right.
I went back down the hill towards the retirement home where
I saw a maintenance man outside. I stopped him to tell him I wasn’t feeling
well and that I was trying to get back to QFC where my car was parked. I secretly
wished he had offered me a ride. I would have taken it! As sweet as he was, he
was no help to me. He had no idea where the QFC was. Sigh.
For a moment after the maintenance man carried on with his
day, I stared down at my phone. With a perplexing plea I said “Please God.
Would you help me out here??” I started back in the opposite direction that my
GPS was telling me to go because I believed that my car was back the other
direction. Just as I was about to plop my nauseated, sweaty, and pitiful fanny
down and cry about it I approached a man and woman in the parking lot of the
hospital I had passed earlier.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt but…” “Are you in need of
directions?” “Yes. My car is at QFC and I’m just hoping you can tell me if I’m
going the right way or not?” The man started giving me directions in which were
fairly easy to comprehend. I knew I’d be back at my car in no time. I was
feeling hopeful! Then he said, “I’m going that way anyway. I’ll walk with you a
bit.” I was pretty sure if this stranger was going to murder me he wouldn’t
make me feel any crappier than I had at that moment anyway. He was very clean
cut, he smelled nice, he had kind eyes, and he didn’t get too close. Off we
went.
We began discussing why I wasn’t feeling well and he asked
me a series of questions. Not that I asked him, but I was pretty sure he was a
doctor. It only made sense, he was asking and saying all the right things. He
asked me if I was stressed out at work. I said “No, just a lot of stressful
things going on in my life right now but I’m okay.” We somehow got on the
subject of my mom and brother and how my mom is currently a civilian contractor
in Bagram, Afghanistan and how my brother is a C-130 Crew Chief at Hurlburt
Field, FL. He was very impressed by my family and even called them “patriots.”
He told me to be sure I thanked them for him and told me to hug them tight the
next time I see them. Ha! No problem!
As we winded through the streets I realized we came upon the
QFC. We took the route exactly as he had told it to me. I turned to thank him.
I shook his hand and told him I couldn't have made it without him and it was a
pleasure to speak with him. I told him I appreciated him taking time out of his
day to help a lost walker find her way. He smiled and replied “Oh, it’s no
problem at all! I've got nowhere else to be. I’m homeless.” Without missing a
beat, he wished me well, turned, and walked away without looking back. Stunned,
I walked through the parking lot to my car, got in, and cried.
He didn't want anything from me except conversation. If he
had, I think he would have made a point to tell me he was homeless in the
beginning. Instead, with his cup of coffee in hand, we walked through the nice
neighborhood together chatting about my life, not his. It was the best ¾ of a
mile I’ve ever walked and I’ll never forget it.
Now, before anyone comments on how I shouldn't trust him or
shouldn’t have shared what I did about my family with him, please don’t even go
there. That defeats the purpose of this story. As a society, many of us are so judgmental.
Maybe it’s not deliberate but it happens. I judged him today. My mother would
be ashamed of me if she knew I had judged someone by their looks. No, he didn't
LOOK homeless and he didn't ask me for my money or my food. In fact, he didn’t
ask me for anything. He wanted my company and he wanted to be a Good Samaritan
and help a hobbling walker find her way. We were in a good neighborhood so I
judged that too. I figured I was in a safe place and that anyone I saw along
the way would be safe for me to ask for help.
Normally, I wouldn't have trusted anyone but I think that’s
the criminal justice (almost)
graduate in me. I was disoriented and sick. I wanted to get back to my car so
bad that I damn near asked a stranger for a ride. In the words of Dr. Phil “What
the hell was I thinking?!?”
We can be a jaded
society. Sometimes we don’t trust people we don’t know, sometimes we think that
some people are only out to advance themselves in one way or another; sometimes
we classify people before we get to know them. How shameful.
At first, I was pretty bummed I ended up feeling so sick
with only about 3 ½ miles in. Between my route back to the car and the section
I got lost in I ended up with 5 miles. The best part of that was the ¾ of a
mile I walked with…Tom? He looked like a Tom so that’ll be his name. Had I not
gotten sick, had I not decided to turn back to the car in the spot I did, had I
not have pitifully asked God for his help as I stood in front of the retirement
home, had I not asked Tom for his help when I approached the hospital for the
second time, I wouldn’t have learned the valuable lesson I did today. I’ll never
be bummed about the progress I make on a walk again, big or small, but more
importantly I’ll never forget Tom.
