When my semester started I was intent on keeping my training schedule and staying on top of my school work. Ha! I guess you need goals, right? At first I couldn’t get all my runs in and I was stressed. Then I felt guilty. And then it occurred to me…I started running to help me de-stress from school. ITS NOT SUPPOSED TO ADD STRESS!!
Last week was crazy with midterms and presentations and clients and papers…you get the point. Somehow the entire week got away from me and I realized Saturday I hadn’t gotten a single run in.
Monday morning I went out, dog in tow, intent on just getting in a few miles. Done. Wednesday morning, up at 5:30 for the first time this semester, few more miles done.
Today was like running motivation day. My sister, the one I visited this summer in Pennsylvania, has started running on the regular and has done a couple 5k’s. (My other newbie running buddy did his first 5k last week, so I’m feeling a little bit like a guru leading my people to the promised land.) I told her about Turkey Trots, and we registered today to run our first race together when I go there for Thanksgiving. Exciting, I just hope it isn’t snowy and the course is relatively flat. After that, I finally registered for my first half. I’ve been putting it off because I’m terrified, but that 15k really gave me a confidence boost. January 27th, here I come.
And then this afternoon I met my newbie running buddy for a run. I got there early because he only wanted to do two miles and I wanted to get in at least four. I parked by the lake and got out of my car. I was on the passenger side taking off my sweatpants when I saw him: duck assassin. He was sauntering towards me, and when he got close enough I got in the car and shut the door. I have had a run in with fowl many times: as a teen I was chased by geese into a field while out running; I was pecked by the reportedly friendly Tom the Turkey while purchasing a Christmas tree with my family; others are too tragic to mention. Needless to say, I was not going to underestimate this duck.
I thought maybe if I sat in the car he would go back across the street with the other various birds. I lost sight of him, and I slid over to the driver’s seat to check around. He came creeping around the front of my car, looking me straight in the eye through the window. He had murder in his eyes, that duck. His head feathers went up, and he began pecking my door. I tried to reason with him. I tapped back and told him, “no, no, no!” but he would not be deterred. He went from the driver’s side to the passenger’s side. Peck, peck, peck, all the while looking at me in the window. I heard him pecking at my bumper and squawking, and I knew he had won. I started my car, and I could hear him behind me pecking and squawking. I pulled away, and saw the duck standing triumphantly, daring me to return.
I’m not going to lie, I was afraid when I ran around that lake. When I came to the spot where the confrontation happened I was frantically scanning for the duck, but he was no where to be found. Probably out celebrating his victory, that cheeky bastard.
I got in a little over two miles before my friend showed up, and then we did two more. He recounted his race last week, complained about the cold weather (which isn’t really cold because we live in Florida), and talked about the holidays.
I watched for the duck.