Zombies, Run

Hiker in woods similar to that on Zombies Run listened to by DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley

I love running. It helps my anxiety and it keeps me in shape. Often, I come up with new blog posts when I run, or at least work through the problems of my day. Did I mention it helps my anxiety?

So it may seem strange that I also like to run to this crazy immersive game called Zombies, Run. It’s an app you can download and then listen to while you are running. I use it all the time. I turn on my music, and then at random bursts, zombies run after me and I have to go faster. In addition, I take on the role of “Runner 5” and get to hear from the communications center in Abel Township, where some of the remaining humans are barricaded away from the zombies. “Runner 5, we need you to go west for supplies,” I might hear on one run, “but avoid those zoms right behind you. Run!”

I laughed through much of the first episode, convinced it was a silly gimmick. But then, I got involved in the storyline. I rooted for the radio controller Mr. Yao and I secretly hated Runner 8. I worried about baby Molly and her mechanic father. I knew it was ridiculous to pretend to run away from zombies (even my kids made fun of me for it) but I found the story compelling, so I kept listening. (As a side note, for those of you who may be sensitive to it, there is usually gunfire in the episodes.)

In between the transmissions from Abel Township, my music pops back in and I run to that. I’ve been running to pop hits from the early 2000s lately, which is pretty funny, when I think about it. Because of course if there was a zombie apocalypse, I’d hope Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” would be preserved. (“It’s gettin’ hot in herre (so hot), so take off all your clothes…”)

All of this makes for a fun run in the morning, especially if I’m outside. I put on my headphones and enjoy the entertainment. Sometimes, there are long stretches of time where I simply listen to music and think about life. That’s nice too.

But Zombies, Run, isn’t just about running away from zombies. As I’ve listened to more of it, I’ve realized it’s a lot more complex. For me, the central question in the game that I’ve found compelling is this: What does it mean to keep living when someone you love has died? (Or, in this case, become a zombie?)

In Abel Township, survival is paramount, especially in the beginning. But as the series continues, the survivors start to wonder what it all means that they have survived and others have not. No one actually says this (at least not in the episodes I’ve listened to so far) so maybe it’s just what I think about when I ponder such an existential situation. How do we, as humans, make meaning of our lives when we lose someone dear? Yes, we may be able to outrun the metaphorical zombies, but is that really the end goal? Survival? Of course it’s not, even though I’ve written a lot about survival. But what about once the crisis is over, when the gates are up to keep the zombies out, or when you know that you’ll be able to cover the mortgage and unclog the drain? What about after that? How do we make meaning of our lives when the survival part becomes routine, and now we have to figure out what the hell comes next?

See, here’s the thing. The zombies are still out there in the world. The people of Abel Township spend much of each day dealing with them. But after a while, there’s room to start thinking about what life really means. Who are we when we wake up one day, and the world is completely different than it once was?

For me, and I think for many other widows, it’s a similar question: What does it mean to go on living, when the person who made life worth living is gone?

Zombies, Run doesn’t give me any answers. There’s just more questions, and a moment or two each episode when I have to flee from a hoard of zombies. But each time I finish my run, I think about how much I feel like the people of Abel Township. Scared and trapped, in many ways, but also trying to find my way back to a place where I can find both safety and meaning.

I guess like Runner 5, I’m just trying to find my way home.

10 Replies to “Zombies, Run”

  1. “How do we make meaning of our lives when the survival part becomes routine, and now we have to figure out what the hell comes next?” Yes!

    I reached the one year mark this past June. I’ve survived: learning how to do the online banking; paying property taxes on time; car inspections for re-registration and also car maintenance; dealing with a broken main water line to the house four days before Christmas on a Friday at 4 pm; having to consult an attorney over inheritance issues I’d been in the dark about that affected the ownership of my own home. Not to mention holidays and birthdays that came and went without my husband being there. People like to tell you that the first year is the hardest, but I disagree. After you’ve made it through all the “firsts” in that first year, what comes next? Who am I in the second year, and the year after that?

    1. Oh, totally. I actually wrote a lot about this when I got to the year mark, but I’m planning on writing again about how it was to survive year two. It was easier and….also still really hard.

  2. This rich with analogy. Firsts, running, zombies, survival….agree after many of the firsts, life is a daily fight to make it to my evening tequila… running from what is immutable…she is gone…no amount of time is going to change that and the dull pain of the loss of her does not seem to be mitigated with time alone…. zombies…sometimes i feel like one just going through the motions of living….survival… is that all that is left in life? I hope not and will persevere to see if there is a next…at least to live up to the obligations of my manifold blessings.

    1. Yes, there’s a lot in this podcast – and they address the meaning of life multiple times in each episode. Sometimes it’s a lot for running – but other times, I love it.

      1. M, i laud your running…you are wise in that it is good for mental and physical wellbeing… i am now a walker … used to be a runner … found walking to be very therapeutic for a 60 plusser … thanks for your creative and thoughtful blog… it helps ……..

  3. I am well into year three and still struggling with these questions. I think not finding answers is one aspect of grief that actually gets worse over time.

    1. Yes, I think that’s true. There never really are any answers, are there?

  4. You are a gift Marjorie, I can’t tell you what your sharing means to me. I lost my husband exactly 18 days before you lost Shawn. When I went to sign up for your blog, it said “Welcome Back” which means that I must have signed up earlier, but for the life of me I can’t remember doing that. I was one of those zombies. But now, I’m actually ready to read this and let the words sink in and find incredible comfort knowing that I’m not crazy and that someone else understands. Thanks for EVERYTHING. And the zombie thing…..so many deep analogies in there…..so many. Bless you for turning your grief into something that is touching so many and helping us through this period of time.

    1. One of the things I say over and over again to new widows is this: you are not crazy! That’s just how it feels in the beginning (and in the beginning, I mean at least the first year.) I’m so glad to have you back reading my blog – and I’m so sorry for your loss. Thanks for being here!

  5. […] “I’m a runner,” I say. I’ve always liked to run a little bit, at the gym on the treadmill or outside on beautiful days. But after Shawn died, my running changed. I needed to run – run away from the anxiety, mostly – so I started doing it every day. Rain or shine. Freezing cold and blazing heat. Inside on the treadmill if I had to. I wasn’t really any faster than I was before and I didn’t like it for a long time. But over a period of months, something changed. I stopped running from the anxiety, and I started running just for the pleasure of it. Whenever that happened, I became a runner. There wasn’t a day when I woke up and said “I’m a runner” but yet, it’s something that I am now. […]

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