At 5am
At 5am, I put on my armour and head outside.
My armour - this morning a pair of Mizuno leggings and a yellow Adidas top paired with Brooks running shoes and icebreaker socks - protects me from cold, from wind and even from rain, so long as I put on my footy supporter cap. I feel no pain while I have my armour on. I'm focused, determined, and do not know the meaning of the words fail, quit, or stop. My armour does all this, as if by magic, from the moment I put it on, until the moment I take it off. Whether it's 0C with wind chill, or 35C at daybreak, I am safe in my armour.
At least, I'm mostly safe.
This morning, as with every morning I run, I check every dark doorway, alley and shadow for anyone lurking. I note the size, model and colour of every passing car, so that I'll know if they turn around and pass me again. I keep one eye facing towards anyone I run past, assessing them as a potential threat, then observing them to ensure they do nothing unexpected. I listen, constantly, even with headphones on, for any noises which are out of the ordinary for main roads and side streets of Auckland at this time of day. It's not an occasional thing to do this check, it's a constant, ongoing, every-second-I-am-running thing. It's not that it's five am that makes me do this. It's that I'm female, alone, with no weapon. It's that I'd do this if it was 7pm, 9pm... I run different routes, at slightly differ times, on different days, to reduce the chance that anyone could observe me and know how, where and when to target me.
I love the strength I feel when I run. I'm usually semi-unaware of the constant threat-checking I do. This morning, as with the last week, it's been more forefront of my mind because of Jill Meagher. I have no doubt she threat-assessed, too. The only real difference is that I haven't encountered a threat.
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