I am really, really sore. And it's all because animals are out to get me.
First the duck incident in high school.
Then there's the two dogs I've owned that have had serious co-dependency issues. Not to mention trash eating and floor pooping issues. They have worn me down slowly. Patiently.
Now...two dogs I don't even know took it upon themselves to try to take me out quickly and with the efficiency of hit men in international spy movies. It must be an international dog spy ring...and the two dogs next door tipped these mongrels off that my husband tried to shoot them with a pellet gun for a tiny, trivial little thing like getting into our trash 3 times a week.
Or maybe it's a generational curse. My own father was taken down by a very large dog once while on a bike. It wasn't pretty.
Tuesday was a beautiful Spring day. After dinner I needed to take some cookies to a friend of mine and I wanted to get out and run. Then...lightbulb! Why not get the bike out of the shed, dust it off, and bike the cookies out to her house, thus killing two birds with one stone? Fantastic idea! In theory. Here is what happened:
I loaded the cookies into a backpack. I took a bottle of water just in case I needed a little refreshment. I figured the trip was about 4-5 miles. Just about perfect for some excercise without over-doing it.
Off I went. I was enjoying the neighborhoods of my small town. The flowers. The sunshine. And then....the train. The road that led to my friend's house was blocked by a train. That wasn't moving. That had no intention of moving any time in the next hour or twelve. This happens a lot around here. Hmmm. I guess I'll just go to the next crossing, I thought. Even though that makes the ride quite a bit longer and I'm not sure quite how to get back to this road... But it's a beautiful evening! I might as well enjoy it and get a little extra exercise.
So ride, ride, ride I did until the next crossing. I was already getting a little tired, but SURELY there was a road that I could take back to my destination. My alternate route was a busier road. I was trying hard to look like I biked all the time and wasn't struggling up hills and that I always carry backpacks full of cookies... And then. THE DOGS.
There were two. They were large. The were mean. They started to run in my direction. I tried to pretend I didn't care. But I pedaled a little faster. I saw a road up ahead that could be my turn to get back on track. But the dogs. They nipped at my feet. They KEPT chasing me way past their own yard. I was a afraid to turn on to the road because that was the side the dogs were on! So I ended up just going straight. Hoping there would be another road. And finally the dogs got tired of chasing me and went back to torture the next victim who happened to decide it was a nice evening for biking.
So on I went. Of course, there was no next road. I realized the lake now stood between me and the area I needed to be. I was going to have to bike around the entire lake, and THEN I would be closer to home than my friend's house. Sigh. For the most part I still enjoyed the ride. The lake was gorgeous. The roads were peaceful...except for 3 or 4 more dogs that chased me. Fortunately they weren't so intimidating as the first dogs. The straw to my water bottle was dysfunctional. Thanks, kids, for chewing a hole in it! The hills were getting harder to climb. But I was getting closer to home...
I only had the railroad track to cross and a few blocks after that. As I approached the tracks, the lights and the bell started to ring. NOOOOOOOOOOO! I would not, could NOT be stopped by another train. I summoned all my energy and raced to the crossing and looked to find the train still a good distance away. I usually have a HUGE fear of train tracks and will not cross if the lights are on, no matter how far away the train is, but this time, I sped over them disregarding lights and bells. Take THAT, train! I laugh at your warning! Ha. Puff. Ha ha. Wheeze. Puff.
So my little brilliant idea turned into a 9-10 mile ride and I had to call my friend and tell her the cookies would be delivered the next day because I am a weirdo. I also had to replace a few broken cookies with cookies from the family stash. I guess cookies aren't meant to be in a backpack bumping along for 10 miles? Who knew??
I am so sore. I have been proud of myself for running this spring and I thought I had built up SOME sort of endurance, but my legs, back and arms are not happy campers. But the worst is...my booty. My aching, Frank-lovin' booty.
But if nothing else, I now know that I will NEVER run my route around the lake. Oh...I may work up to being quite the little distance runner by fall, but I am NOT facing those dogs on foot. Nah...the next time I'm on that road, I'm going to be in my van packing a pellet gun. Bring. It. On. Doggies. I triple dog dare you.
- ▼ May (7)