I'm running to Dunn Bros from our house to check on my collage exhibition. It's 1.5 miles away. More importantly, it's hot.
I'm really not feeling this running thing. But gosh darn it, I'm going to make it there and back! I sound much more adamant than you should believe. Why? Because I asked Dan to come looking for me if I wasn't back in an hour.
Puffing and heaving with no fluid motion in sight I make it to Dunn Bros. Finally air conditioning! The smell of coffee beans in the air. I peruse my art. Make some notes. Looks good.
What else is there left to do? I can only fiddle around for so long. Fine. Gripe to self. Start running back.
I take off! The wind not touching my hair and sunshine beating down on my back. I'm one street crossing away from the path that leads me home. Sweet home. I look both ways. Clear as a whistle. I start wobbly running across the street when I feel an unexpected breeze. A truck has whipped around the corner and suddenly I'm almost body planted in his grill. Does the guy with wrap around sunglasses, polo shirt and red beard even see me?
Not until I screamed in fear! He looked in surprise. Then made a disgusted face and peeled off.
I mean, it's hard enough running, as I've expressed, but if I continually have to worry not just about getting squashed by inconsiderate drivers, but about receiving the stink eye because they didn't see me, I'm going to get a dang complex here.
Point of the story, it's difficult enough to run, but when you make a face at me, it hurts my feelings.
Start seeing runners and save my fragile ego. Or something like that.
And dude with the tude, you suck.
I'm really not feeling this running thing. But gosh darn it, I'm going to make it there and back! I sound much more adamant than you should believe. Why? Because I asked Dan to come looking for me if I wasn't back in an hour.
Puffing and heaving with no fluid motion in sight I make it to Dunn Bros. Finally air conditioning! The smell of coffee beans in the air. I peruse my art. Make some notes. Looks good.
What else is there left to do? I can only fiddle around for so long. Fine. Gripe to self. Start running back.
I take off! The wind not touching my hair and sunshine beating down on my back. I'm one street crossing away from the path that leads me home. Sweet home. I look both ways. Clear as a whistle. I start wobbly running across the street when I feel an unexpected breeze. A truck has whipped around the corner and suddenly I'm almost body planted in his grill. Does the guy with wrap around sunglasses, polo shirt and red beard even see me?
Not until I screamed in fear! He looked in surprise. Then made a disgusted face and peeled off.
I mean, it's hard enough running, as I've expressed, but if I continually have to worry not just about getting squashed by inconsiderate drivers, but about receiving the stink eye because they didn't see me, I'm going to get a dang complex here.
Point of the story, it's difficult enough to run, but when you make a face at me, it hurts my feelings.
Start seeing runners and save my fragile ego. Or something like that.
And dude with the tude, you suck.
Awesome blog!!
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