Protego

This week has left me feeling … vulnerable, and sad. We lost two iconic artists–David Bowie and Alan Rickman– to cancer in the space of a few days. Devastating losses, unfair losses. Ziggy Stardust and Severus Snape, gone.

Also lost but less well-known was a woman who lived down the street from me. Last summer she recorded a video about metastatic breast cancer that made its way around social media. I didn’t really know her, but her adorable young sons always have a friendly greeting, a wave, or a request for a hug whenever we walk past their house. Less well-known, but not less important.

On top of that, a news story made its way around my running group yesterday after a runner was attacked and sexually assaulted on one of the roads where we regularly train, sometimes long after dark or before sunrise. I’ve never ever felt unsafe running there over the last 3.5 years, even when I’ve been alone. But now we’re comparing brands of pepper spray and planning to stick closely with others at all times. It doesn’t help that the police description of the assailant began and ended with “he was last seen wearing shorts and a t-shirt.”

All of this makes my anxiety about the upcoming 3M half marathon pale in comparison. Beating my time goal is nothing compared to losing a battle with cancer or a rapist. Can I cast a giant Protego spell on everyone?

Lacking magic skills, my next best option is trying to see the positive, I guess. Someone in Austin changed the Bowie Street sign to David Bowie Street, and the city left it that way. The New Yorker published a cartoon of Harry Potter and John McClane toasting Rickman. There’s been an outpouring of support for Holley’s family, and I know that members of my running group will not only be more individually aware, but will be on heightened alert for one another as well.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, indeed.