I've been in a handful of fights, and I've ran from a few. We also had a drunken fight club at my house for a while which had some base rules, not sure if that counts. My two most memorable fights were probably the ones where I ended up running in the end, or outright lol. Not even ashamed of it though.
1) 15 years old, Russian suburb of Moscow more or less. Me and a couple kids are dicking around with a long (200+ ft) piece of electrical wire we found, like running through a field and trying to catch one another in it. Eventually me and my boy whose house I was staying at caught one other kid, named Shurik. We kept wrapping him in circles with it as he tried to escape. Apparently at some point it stopped being a joke to him and he starts screaming this horrible banshee shriek so we stop pulling on the wire. He comes loose and comes up to me and blames me for trying to choke him/kill him and punches me in the face. He was probably 13/14 at the time and a year here or there at that age can be pretty significant. I'd say I was about 5 inches taller and had a good 30-40 pounds on him. Anyway, punches me in the face. I tell him "Ok we're good now." He punches me again, "Ok now you're pissing me off, don't do it again." He punches me in the face a third time and that's when I figured he had enough warnings and I give him 3 punches in the face real quick, pow pow pow. He crumbles to the ground and starts squirming and covering his face. "Told you to cut that shit out," I say. I turn around and start walking away. Then I hear one of the kids behind me shout, "blickpall, he's got a brick!" I turn around and see Shurik carrying a cinder block the size of my head and looking like he is going to toss it at me or clobber me with it. I am not sticking around for no weapons shit so I double time it down the path. After about 50 feet I turn around, expecting him to have given up chasing me, but he was right behind me, still crying and wailing and carrying that damned brick. I ran for at least a half mile and every time I turned around to check on him, he was still chasing me like a dog. I ended up hiding in the vestibule of one of the apartment projects hoping he would give up once he realized that I could be in any of the 30+ of them. I went home an hour later and this little baby snitch told his mom about the incident probably because his face was all fucked up and she forced it out of him tbh, of course leaving out the fact that he tried to murder me with a brick. Made up a few days later.
2) I'm smoking a cigarette outside the bar/club I'm at. My friends had just left a few minutes earlier and were heading to their house where we were going to meet up. I had my tab open and told them I'd finish smoking, close my tab, and meet up with them in 5. Anyway, Stacey comes up to me and of course it's just to mooch a cigarette off me, not for anything of substance. I give her one because I believe in cigarette karma and I think we might have exchanged one or two words at most ("Here you go," "Thanks!") and at this moment Super GigaChad 3000 emerges from the club, the doorframe clearly inconveniencing him in both height and breadth. Dude was probably around 6'4'' and 270 lbs, so more than 100 pounds over me. He points at me and says "HEY! WHY YOU TALKIN' TO MY GIRL?!" GigaChad is clearly drunk and insecure as fuck for whatever reason, probably because his face is actually only average or maybe because he was a late bloomer or something but regardless he is a mountain of muscles so he is still GigaChad in my book. I am in flip flops to boot; I don't think any fight has ever been won by a dude who is a couple weight classes below his opponent and in such laughable footwear. He comes up to me saying "YOU WANNA GO HUH?!" and I look him in the eye and say "Hold on," as I take a step back, put out my cigarette, bend down, take off my flip flops, and sprint like my life depended on it. GigaChad probably got tired of trying to keep pace with me while carrying 100 pounds more than me after a block or two (last I looked back, he was still there) but I booked it all the way to my friend's house anyway.
I don't really care about honor or shit like that. If the only thing in the balance is me breaking my nose yet again or some other grievous injury and there is nothing else on the line, then I'll run if I think I can't win, fuck all of that. Would I do it again? I would fight again if I had to, I will always run if I have to as well. I'm getting out of shape though so I need to get back on that treadmill to make sure I can outrun my attackers, which has always been my lifeline ("If I can't win, I'll just outrun them,").
