I don’t know what was wrong with me as a child. I think I might’ve had brain damage.
Ever since I was little bitty, I’ve always loved running. Sometimes I’d run into things, or fall on my face, but it never really slowed me down much. Sometimes I would just run in circles for minutes just for the heck of it. I also had a bad habit of sprinting in a random direction for no apparent reason. After a while, my parents started to figure out that they couldn’t leave me alone for two seconds or else I’d be gone… like some sort of freaky Forrest Gump/Where’s Waldo hybrid. I ran away so many times… and every time my parents would ask me why I did it or where I was going, and I’d always say “I dunno” with a sad little face. Sorry mom and dad. Totally unrelated, I wish I could grow a ZZ Top or Gandalf beard. I’m definitely going to someday.
Anyways, I had a lot of energy as a kid. And I’ve been thinking. Maybe as an alternative to gasoline,
…anyways… back to me as a kid. The house that I grew up in was on a block that made one big loop, so you could basically do laps around the block without ever having to cross the street. My mom would often take me around the block a few times to try to wear me out. It never worked. When I was about three, my friend Brett came over for a visit. He was about two at the time. I don’t think he said much, being two years old, and I was getting a little bored, so naturally I had the bright idea to run away from home. I ran out the door… down the driveway… down the block… and pretty soon I was gone. I was having so much fun I don’t think I even heard my mom frantically running and screaming behind me with a traumatized little two year old flailing around and freaking out in her arms while I was zooming around the block. I want y’all to know… my mom was an amazingly patient woman when I was a child (it didn't last) but I think I may have really upset her that day. As soon as I was out of sight, she flung little Brett into the back seat of her car and sped down the road after me. I’m still not sure why I decided to run away or where I was trying to go, but I was damn determined to get there quick. I only knew how to go around the block, so I kind of ran in a big circle over and over again, with my mom freaking out and tailing me in her car the whole time, but, oblivious me, I don't think I really noticed. I ran a few laps, having the time of my life, until my mom finally decided she’d had enough. She drove her car ON TOP of the sidewalk in front of me and got out of the car, fuming mad. I think flames may have spurted out of her eyes at one point. It’s hard to remember the exact expression on her face just about then, but I think it may have looked something like this:
I don’t think I tried to run away again for a few days.
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