The Legend of Tree Man

When my legs are functioning, and not suffering from shin splint related implosion, I like to go running. It’s something that I do alone. I refuse to run with people. Some of my friends like to make a game out of “who can get Cristy to run with us.” I’m a very competitive person, so running with people will cause me to go into “I’m the champion of everything” mode and focus only on coming in first in the imaginary race I’m in. I’m not an actual competitive runner though. I’m not training for any races, I use running as a form of exercise and stress relief. So, I’d rather not launch myself into a competition that only I’m aware of.

So, in 2009 when I was running down my usual route and encountered “Tree Man” I had only myself to rely on. I could see him from a distance, but didn’t know what I was looking at until I was too close to leave many options for an escape. As I approached him, I thought I was coming up on a man stretching against a tree.

What I was actually approaching was a man who was violently and purposefully shaking a tree.

Because I grew up in Pierce County, WA – a place the Economist describes as an environment where “toothless addicts roamed quiet rural roads, stealing everything that was not nailed down” – my mind is prone to jump to the assumption of “that’s a meth addict” when I see a deranged individual. On a side note, I never once saw a toothless addict stealing anything in my time in WA. But still, I assumed this man was strung out on methamphetamines.

When I came to this realization, I was close enough so that he could take notice of me. I had two options:

1. Keep running, directly past him.
2. Turn around and sprint home.

If he was indeed on meth – which I had convinced myself he was – he could react in two ways.

1. Remain in his own tree fantasy.
2. Attack!

If he was going to attack, he’d pursue me in either direction I was heading. While turning around would leave me on the correct side of him in a “sprint home” situation, I wanted to finish my run. No Tree Man was going to stop me.

I ran past him and he didn’t even break stride in his tree assault. I turned around up the road to return home, which required one more pass in tree territory. Tree Man was gone. But he had left a trail of destruction behind him. Tree branches littered the sidewalk and street, leading to the other side of the road.

The next time I ran past that tree, there was a dead bird near the base. I’m going to assume this was Tree Man’s doing.

I like to imagine he’s since moved to a tree farm, where he can shake trees to his heart’s desire.