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During a morning run, a bobcat crossed in front of me. It was about 10 feet away. I wasn’t sure what to do. I don’t like to stop when I’m running, but there was a bobcat in front of me. He (or she) seemed equally confused on protocol. We made eye contact and then I tried to stop making eye contact in a way I hoped wasn’t interpreted as anything aggressive (or rude). After I passed him (or her), I wasn’t sure whether to look back to check if I was being followed. There was another runner heading in my direction. I could only imagine my face. I asked, “You saw that, right?” “Was that a bobcat?” “Yes.” It was actually the end of my run ,and I had to turn back toward the area the bobcat was at. I don’t know how he (or she) got back to the side he (or she) came from. But the bobcat crossed again. I’m hoping it’s the same one. Otherwise, that’s much scarier. This time, I waited until he (or she) was further away and grabbed my phone to take a photo. (It's in the center, facing away from the camera.) Similar to the ghost story experience, my time didn’t improve at all.
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Earlier this year, I was headed to a run in McAllen, when it sounded like my tire was about to fall off. I was still at least half an hour from the location. I said a prayer and remembered there was a Discount Tire at the next exit. My car wobbled into a parking spot in the empty lot. It was almost an hour until the business opened. I was already dressed for the run and even had my bib pinned on. I figured why let a thing like the wrong location stop me from running. I checked Google Maps, made an impromptu route and headed off. I circled the business a few times. I saw the employees arrive, get ready for the day, and most likely wonder why I was running circles around them. I had this beautifully timed moment when I ran up to the door, just as they opened it. They got my information and I headed back to the road to finish my run. When I returned, I remembered they have a fridge with water, which I helped myself to. Cold water, air condition, clean restrooms with no lines, plenty of parking. Instead of a medal, I got two new tires. (Considering race fees and travel and hotel costs, the price was comparable.) It was one of the most organized races I’ve participated in. Comedian Dave Attell said he’d never become a jogger, because joggers are always the ones that find bodies. I hope that’s never me. The most I ever expected to see was car parts left from wrecks during my New Year’s Day morning run. I didn’t. But here’s something I did see…. blood bags. They were empty blood bags, but blood bags nonetheless. It happened last weekend, during my first post-op long run. They were spewed along the road. I saw them and thought they couldn’t be what they looked like. When I backtracked, I got a second look. I still thought, “No, that can’t be.” I glanced at a bag and saw stickers with bar codes. One sticker had a big “A.” “That’s such a generic letter,” I reasoned. “I’m sure it doesn’t stand for Type A blood.” Then, I stopped and stared at another one. It had a different label - “O+”. I couldn’t think of any non-blood-related O+ references. I have to start asking other runners what kind of stuff they’ve run across. A little less than two weeks after my gall bladder surgery, the doctor said I could return to my normal activities. As I’m the paranoid sort, I waited another week before I went for a run.
It was just a mile. I felt more jiggly than usual, so that was oh so encouraging. About halfway through, what felt like a large paper-cut irritated my left side. That made no sense as my incisions were on the other side. I kept having to pull my shirt away from my skin. My time was disheartening. I returned to my old very, very slow time, instead of the (improved) just slow time. Ah, well, at least I was moving again. |
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September 2017
AuthorFormer high school water girl (really) finally running. |