I can attest to that, personally. For those that deny it exists, keep telling yourself that, and you will fall victim to it. Last night, I was walking home from my usual Thursday night 8-miler, follow by pizza and a beer, when I got cold-cocked. I was walking on Franklin St, and there was a pack of about 6 teens ahead, which included a couple of girls. I was dressed in running clothes and holding some leftover pizza. My instincts told that something bad was about to happen. I was watching the first couple of guys in the group as they approached, and I was thinking through how to react to the situation. My plan, if anything happened, was to throw the pizza straight up in the air, which might divert attention for a second (wild-card move), while I could run away. My first line of defense in the shitty city of Baltimore has always been my feet. I know I can outrun 99% of the trouble in the city. It's actually one of the reasons why I try to stay in top running shape at all times. I've never had a problem, but that was always my plan.
Just as I shifted the pizza in position to be ready to toss, I felt that shot to my left jaw. Right on the temporomandibular joint. I swung to my left circling the first guy in the group, and I lost hold of the pizza (wild card down!). For what seemed like a couple of seconds, I stared this punk down, while his delinquent friends yelled. I took one step back, and so did he. Then I took three steps back, and he did the same. Then I took off running for a few yards, I looked back and they were all doing the same. I warned a woman walking down the street behind me that I had just gotten jumped. She offered to call the cops, but I declined. I figured that they wouldn't do anything... there's always herds of thugs walking the neighborhood... are they going to stop them all and ask, "Sorry to bother, but did you strike this gentleman, here?" Plus, it would have taken up time answering useless questions that will just get filed. Maybe there'd be a roll call mention of it, but it would have come to nothing. I just walked that woman to her door across the way, and I went home to sleep.
So what did I learn?
1. Staying situationally aware is key when you live in a cesspool like B'more. Really it's key anywhere. I let my guard down for one second, because this group let a woman in front of me pass unmolested. But, I guess skinny looking runner-types are what they were after. As soon as I got within 10 feet, alarm bells went off. They all got quiet, and I waited a second too long to pull the wild card. Trust my instincts, and have a plan. I have often thought through what to do in this type of situation, and this played out much like I planned for it. Feet first defense, but I also got lucky in that the first punch didn't knock me down. I'm sure it would have been a free for all on me if that did happen.
2. Sometimes I run with a knife, I didn't that night. Nor did I have a phone, or cash. Which are all good things. Having the knife, I would have pulled it, but what would have come of using it. It would have been last ditch defense should they all have jumped in on me... Cut my way out of the fray. I have thought that situation through ahead of time. If they had intended to rob me, well they wouldn't have gotten anything since I didn't have my phone or cash. Only a credit card, which can be canceled in seconds.
3. I should carry something else for protection. Most likely I'll find some pepper spray. Works on dogs too, although I would feel worse about using it on a dog than I would have on that asshole that hit me.
4. I can take a punch. I haven't been hit since about 4th grade. That's about 30 years ago. Never been a fighter. This was a solid shot to the jaw, and I stayed up and completely aware of my surroundings and the situation. It didn't phase me. I think that may have stunned my assailant into not jumping on me. It hurt, for sure. It hurts now, as I type this the morning after. But some ice and Tylenol have worked.
I realize people will say that I shouldn't live in the cesspool that is Baltimore. I maintain that no one should feel afraid of where they live, but I also believe that one shouldn't be stupid either. Baltimore has a few good things, but it is a cesspool, especially around Lexington Market area. You have to play dodge the junkies, who form a nodding obstacle course on the sidewalks. You have to politely decline the offers of weed, Finnegans, and "Crack, yo! I got crack!" when walking down Eutaw. And apparently, now I have to watch for 16-year-olds in groups of more than one. When I lived in Philly (a somewhat more likeable cesspool), I developed the habit of looking over my shoulder every telephone pole. I still do that. It keeps me vigilant. This time the threat came from the front, and like I said, I let my guard down for a bit too long. Too late to cross the street. I'll cross the street more often when I see a group of thugs ahead of me.
I've never felt threatened while running; maybe a few "Run, Forrest, Run!" comments from the peanut gallery. And, while this didn't happen while I was actually running, it was a reminder of the vulnerability of runners (and lone pedestrians), as I'm sure I still would have been attacked had I been running at that time. But, I'll still be right back out there running the streets. However, I will be running with pepper spray from now on. Running in the city is probably the one thing that I really like about Baltimore. It's a tight running community. I run with a few different groups and there's always overlap between them. Always someone to do a long run with, or grab pizza and a beer. I am looking forward to my eventual move back to Philly (in the next couple of months) for many reasons (see some of the above), but I will miss the running community here.
