Still Walking
Submitted by Anonymous
It was routine for me, to take a walk, during my one-hour lunch break. There was a park about a 10-minute drive up the street, and along the perimeter of the park was a walking trail. It was perfect for me to de-stress midday and to get my exercise in for the day. During my lunch hour, I would do a half-hour walk at the park, then head back to the office, freshen up, and grab a quick bite to eat. I had done this for several years.
Whenever the weather was good, meaning it wasn’t unbearably hot or raining, I would walk. I’d put my headphones on, get a little lost in the music, and just focus on not worrying about anything. Though I always wore headphones, I kept one earbud out so I could hear what was going on around me. I still wanted to stay safe.
I pulled into the parking lot of the park and put my key in my wristband, which had a small zipper compartment. There weren’t many people walking the trail that day, maybe three or four. They were all women, walking the track getting their exercise in. The track was about four miles in length, rounded with a few twists as it followed the perimeter of the park. In the center were large grassy areas, a children’s playground, benches, BBQ grills, and a canopied area with tables and benches underneath. I saw a couple of people were under the canopy, including two men playing chess.
That day, I was wearing easy workout gear; gray capri leggings and a graphic T-shirt. At the office, before leaving, I would change into my walking clothes, and then change back into my work business attire when I returned.
It was a sunny day, about 76 degrees, the sky was clear and there was just a slight breeze. The scent of gardenias filled the air. My walk started out great. I had already made my way over halfway around the track. The park was fully enclosed by fences, with advertising banners promoting various businesses on them. The walking trail was lined with beautiful trees and bushes. The main entry to the park was through the parking lot, but you could also walk in through the side gate.
As I reached the opposite side, I noticed a man coming in through the unlatched, metal swing-gate. That wasn’t unusual, people who walked to the park from the neighborhood, often used that gate side to enter.
I saw when he entered the park. He was wearing a gray button up shirt and light khaki pants. I continued walking at my usual brisk pace, not jogging, but fast enough to get my heart rate up a bit. He began walking beside me.
He looked at me. Then he looked me up and down and smiled brazenly. He said “hello, hi”. In response, I said hi and kept walking. I did not know him. And as a general rule, I never stop moving, to talk to anyone. On the track, when I walk, pleasantries are exchanged in passing, “Hello, how are you, good day?”, but I keep moving, I don’t stop.
He followed me.
He began walking more closely next to me. He said, “How are you?” In a strong accent.
I said, “Fine. I’m walking.” He was walking too close to me now and his proximity was making me uncomfortable.
Next he said, “Um you’re pretty,” then he said, “I like you.” Smiling at me.
That concerned me. His tone and demeanor was off, this was not just a compliment; it was not flattering or welcomed. It was disturbing. Nothing like that had ever happened to me at that park. It had always felt like a relatively safe place. I had been going there for years, not just during lunch, but also in the evenings, even after dark for night walks, usually with friends or my husband.
This exchange was different. But I kept walking.
I said, “Thank you. I’m married.” An uneasy feeling was setting in, I didn’t like this.
His invasion of my space had me feeling uncomfortable.
He said, “I like your BLEEP. I really like you.”
I again said, “I’m married” and picked up my pace.
He responded, saying, “I don’t care. I want you.” Now he was right next to me, too close. He said, “You have a nice BLEEP.”
I yelled, “I’m married, please get away from me!”
Coldly, I stared at him. Looking right at him, I saw his face clearly. His eyes were a gray-steel blue color, very un-common and striking. Though the color was beautiful, almost mesmerizing, there was something frighteningly menacing about those eyes. His face was large, oval shaped, olive-toned, with visible remnants on his skin of having had severe acne as a youth. His hair was dark and curly, and he spoke with a thick accent. He was tall, 6’1” I’ll estimate, about a foot taller than I am. He wasn’t huge or thin, but of average build.
I walked faster to create more distance. Then he reached his hand out and touched me, on my behind. Yes, he did, who does that? What man thinks that is even OK??? The disrespect and audacity! I was shocked and screamed loudly, “Don’t touch me, get your hands off of me”! I screamed repeatedly. He grabbed my arm. I tried to run.
At that moment, I knew I was in danger.
Thoughts raced through my head. This can’t be happening. This man is going to kill me today.
We were about 100 feet from the gate he had entered. I thought he might try to grab me and pull me out of that gate. I could not let that happen.
For me, in that moment, it was fight or flight. I had to get away from him. Instinctively, I fought. I felt a lump in my throat and my heart was racing as I made a fist. I pulled my arm back, lunged up, and punched him hard in the throat and then partially struck him on the side of his face on his chin. It jolted him. He still held on to my other arm.
He looked stunned. Not just because I hit him, but as if he didn’t expect that I would fight back at all. As if he thought I was much younger, than I actually was, a more vulnerable perhaps easy target. Like I would just let him. What I saw when I looked at him, scared me. The look in his eyes, that look on his face was absolute evil. Wicked in a way I had never seen before. I think that had the scenario been even slightly different, I believe he would have killed me. I was screaming, fighting, yelling “No, Help Me!”. He didn’t hit me back, I pulled and yanked my arm free from his grip. I took that opportunity to run. I ran across the track, cutting through the grassy center. Running and screaming toward my car on the opposite side of the park, in the parking lot.
The entire encounter likely lasted less than 10 minutes. But it felt like forever.
As I ran, I saw a few people on the track, who had passed me by earlier, a woman walking, another woman jogging. Though they were ahead of me, they could still see and clearly hear what was happening.
After I broke away, he turned the opposite direction, and started running, exiting the park through the gate he had entered.
I was shaken up and shaking as I made my way to my car.
Not one person who was in that park that day came to check on me. They all heard me scream, they saw me fight, they saw me running. No one offered to call the police. No one moved.
No one asked if I was okay. No one offered help. The women on the track glanced at me and kept walking. The men playing chess looked up, then went right back to their game. Someone sitting in their car in the parking lot, that was parked near my car, drove off as I approached, without stopping.
Not one person did a thing.
My cell phone was in my car, I didn’t have it with me while walking on the track. When I ran to my car, I was trembling, I sat inside, locked the door, grabbed my phone, and called my job. My co-worker Justin answered. I tried to speak as calmly as possible, but it was obvious I was crying. I told him what just happened, and he said, “Do you need us to come there right now? Are you okay? We’re on our way.”
Justin said, “Me and Grayson are on our way right now. We’re coming for you.”
I said, “No, He’s gone, so it’s okay. But I’ll be back at work in just a few minutes. I just have to get myself together.”
Grayson and Justin both said, “Are you sure? We are coming right now.”
I said, “No, I’m on my way back.”
Next, I called my husband. He made sure I was alright and said, “Call the police.” And asked, ” Do you see any police around there?” I said, “No.”
Often there are police officers in the lot, parked with their cars faced opposite ways, talking to one another. But that day, there were none.
I took some deep breaths, calmed myself down, until I was able to drive. I returned to the office, freshened up, changed back into my work clothes, and went back to work.
I planned to call the police right then, but I waited until I got home.
That evening, I called the police. An officer came to the house to take my statement. He asked if I had ever seen the man before. I said, “No, I’ve never seen this person there before.” And I went to that park regularly.
I showed the officer my wrist. I wasn’t aware that I had a bruise, on the inner part of my wrist, most likely from hitting the man’s chin. It hurt a little. The officer expressed concern, said he was glad I was okay, and told me I had every right to defend myself, by any means and was glad to hear that I did. He cautioned me to be careful, and he said if I ever saw the man again, to call the police immediately. He completed the report and left my house.
After that day, I didn’t realize how deeply shaken I was. I did not walk in that park again, for four years.
I was afraid, afraid someone might try to harm me, kidnap me, or sexually assault me. This had happened in broad daylight, during lunch hour, at 1:30pm. If it could happen then, what did that mean? Was no time safe?
So for four years, instead of walking during my lunchtime, my husband and I walked in our neighborhood with our daughter, after dinner. I was not able or ready to go out and walk alone.
The thoughts that ran through my mind that day were clear: this man was crossing every boundary. He was too close, he had the nerve to say the things he said, that was bad enough. But the moment he put his hands on me, everything changed. I didn’t know what would happen next.
My child was the first thing that came to my mind. I have a young daughter, and I have to go home to her. If, for any reason, this man tried to take me away from her, NO! I was not going down without a fight. I thought about my family. I thought, my husband is going to lose his wife. My daughter, my sweet young daughter, won’t have a mother anymore.
I often think that, even though that day caused me trauma, I may have saved someone else’s life. That I was walking the park, on that day, at that time, for a purpose.
I believe he thought I was much younger than I was. Because I get that a lot. Was he a predator? Had he had come to that park specifically looking for a young girl? When he instead, encountered me; a grown woman, a mother, a wife, a mama bear, who would fight back and protect herself.
There weren’t many people in the park that day and usually there are a lot more people at that hour, including young girls; highschoolers, running the track, hanging out under the canopy. But oddly, not that day, there were none. So maybe, in some way, I interrupted something unthinkable. Maybe I prevented something from happening to a girl who wouldn’t have been able to defend herself.
I don’t know what his intentions were with me. But those eyes, that vile way he looked at me, the way he felt entitled to put his hands on me, that told me enough and it was all I needed to know.
No one who was there and witnessed the incident, helped me that day. And I learned something very important: you must look out for yourself. Just because people are around you, doesn’t mean they will step in. It doesn’t mean they will help. Assume, that they don’t care! It is every person for themselves.
The bruise on my wrist lasted less than two weeks and the pain subsided well before then.
For four years, I held onto fear and I did not, I could not, return to that park.
When I think of that day at the park, I truly hope I saved a young girl’s life.
I’m still here. Though it took a while, I did go back to that park to walk again.
And today, I am Still Walking.
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