CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- You can learn a lot about yourself during an earthquake.

I learned I move much faster than most of my co-workers.

My instinct to flee is apparently well-honed, as no alarm was required for me to evacuate the building. It was probably still shaking when I booked out the door.

I've occasionally wondered how I'd react in a situation like that, wondered if the many post-apocalyptic books I've read over the years would somehow prepare me for most any scenario. Apparently, they prepared my feet. Those puppies can move.

I've had a few other occasions to learn how I'd react in bad situations. Many years back, I was working in a Putnam Village movie theater when, after the evening's final movie let out and nearly all the customers had left, the manager was called into one of the theaters by a man claiming to need help finding a lost wallet.

Once they were both in the dark theater, the man pulled a gun. He handcuffed the manager to a railing and then made him yell for me to come in. As soon as I walked in the door, he put his pistol to my head -- at one point, in my ear -- and walked me over to my boss. He cuffed us together, with a railing between us so we couldn't get free, then he went to the lobby to gather the cash.

Before the robber could leave, in walked the janitor and his wife. They were soon handcuffed to a nearby railing. The wife was terrified and became somewhat hysterical. I could sense that her increasingly shrill, "We're gonna die! We're gonna die!" was beginning to rattle our robber, so I began gently joking with him.

The strangest thing was that even though he'd held a gun on me, I felt absolutely no fear. I talked to him and quieted the janitor's wife and he left. The fear didn't kick in until it was over. When the police arrived, my knees turned to rubber. For weeks afterward, I had terrible dreams, and I couldn't stop feeling the point where his gun touched my skin.

Still, while it had been happening, I'd remained clearheaded and calm. It was reassuring to learn that was how I'd react.

In the years since, I've had a few other occasions where I was put on the spot in lesser ways than the robbery. In those, too, I stayed completely calm until after, when I would fall completely apart. There'd be pieces of me everywhere. A limb here. A chunk of hair there. Reassembly could be slow and unwieldy. Like trying to tape Jell-O together.

After the earthquake, I sat outside on a wall on the Capitol grounds, surrounded by a few hundred co-workers. I was calm -- even sort of amused. It was all so bizarre. But I kept thinking I could feel the ground moving again. No one else seemed to feel it. Since I wanted to avoid dropping body parts in public, I distracted myself with conversation, and the rubber-leg sensation eventually passed.

So I guess what I'm saying is, if you ever happen to see me out running, I'm not a jogger, so you might want to run too.

And if you're there when I stop, stick around. I'll probably need help picking up the pieces.

Reach Karin Fuller via email at karinful...@gmail.com.