Running is good for your heart, it helps burn calories, it builds mental toughness. BLAH BLAH BLAH.

But, anyone training for a major race, it’s about time you get off your soapbox. Now, there’s no denying that running is healthier than, say, heroin. But like many compulsions or addictions, it can serve as a way to avoid your real problems. It’s no coincidence the saying goes, “You must be running away from something.”

I’m no exception. My friend Kate inspired me to start (blog #1), but the hell of a recent breakup followed by the purgatory known as the dating scene compelled me to keep training. It gave me an excuse to be busy-- something to focus on, to be obsessed by, ignoring and avoiding other things.

But running can only get you so far. And no matter how much you train, in the “journey of life” some steps are hard to take, no matter what. Just take the day I went on a date with a man we’ll call Dr. Glock.

He suggested an afternoon hike. I was tempted to beg off, citing a training run. But I knew I could postpone the speed work one day. Besides, we had mutual friends. He seemed like a nice guy. He was active. Game on.

Away we went in his car, bound for Little Si. The clouds had parted. The sun was shining. The angels were singing. What could go wrong?

We arrived at a small, dirt parking lot. I jumped out of the car and strode for the trailhead. But I noticed he wasn’t following. He was drifting toward the back of his car. “Monique, come here for a second.”

I stopped.

“I need to show you something...”

??? Oh boy. What I needed was to keep those weird parking lot stories we’ve all covered from flooding my brain.

“… just in case something happens to me.”

What?! Okay, I was thinking, “Maybe he has severe allergies like my mother, and he needs to show me an EpiPen.”

I got by the back door, and he said, “You need to know how this works.” I heard a zipper.

Please, please, let it be an EpiPen.

The zipper was on his backpack, thankfully. Once the front flap curled open, he slid his hand to the bottom. And he pulled out … a 9mm.

All my training flashed before my eyes. I was pretty darn certain I could outrun him with a touch of a head start. But, this guy had a gun! Bullets trump Brooks anyday.

I apparently have no poker face, because he immediately started explaining that it was for our safety. He just wanted to make sure we were covered. He wanted me to feel comfortable with the thought of using it in case something happened to him. On Little Si.

“What, like if you break your leg?” I offered, trying to inject some humor (pre-Eight Bells joke).

No laugh, no smile, no nothin’.

Not really wanting to piss off the guy with the gun, I headed for the trail. No worries: there were plenty of people on the path, many of them just shy of being my grandparents’ contemporaries. One particularly spy, white-haired woman with a winning smile passed us, adorned with matching strawberry-patterned visor and fanny pack.

“You going to shoot her?” I asked with a laugh. Surely, once he saw all the people on this very popular trail he would have some humor about this.

Nope.

As you may have anticipated, at end of that date/hike/firearms crash course, we never saw one another again. Better that way for both of us. But during the course of our walk, I got to know him a little better. He was motivated, he adored his family, and he was a very nice person. Just not the person for me, and vice versa.

Here was a situation that frightened the bejeezus out of me initially. But in the end, it helped me survive one of my greatest trepidations: killing time on a bad date. Sometimes, running isn’t the answer.

Don’t get me wrong: the next day I did that speed workout. But it wasn’t just an excuse to avoid something else.

It’s a lot more fun when you’re really just running, not running away.