Once upon a time (maybe seven or eight months ago) I was on a pretty good health kick. I was eating healthily, going to the gym every morning, cycling to work, swimming, and yes, sometimes even jogging. I was feeling pretty good. Then something happened (we'll call it "christmas baking"), and all those benefits that come with the exercising thing went straight out the window. You know, things like momentum, motivation, and pants that fit. Stupid seasonal cookies. I've been meaning to get back to all three of those things. For months now I've been feeling like the desire to get my butt back in shape was close. Bound to hit me any day. It didn't.
So, yesterday I went for a run anyway. Screw the motivation, I can do without it! I'm huffing and puffing my way through Fairfield, when these two crows do a fly-by of my head and then land in the tree in front of me, cawing their little beaks off. I barely notice, I'm so caught up in not giving up five minutes into my excursion. I pass under them, and they come after me again, swooping just behind my head, then circling around and landing in another tree. "Oh," I say, "hello, friends."
They were not my friends.
I pass them again and they take another run at me, this time coming so close I swear I felt a wing graze my ear. "Hahaha," I say, getting a little weirded out. "Caw, caw!" they reply, and this is when I notice the evil flames of hate spewing forth from their beady little eyes. This was no friendly encounter with some winged creatures of love and sharing. These beasts were targeting me specifically. And to be clear, they were very, very pissed off.
They must have buzzed me seven or eight times, coming closer and closer and getting louder and more terrifying every time. And this isn't me over-dramatizing the situation. An elderly gardener out watering his petunias looked rather startled as the three of us jogged by, and a cyclist nearly hit a parked car when he was distracted by the sight of us. Picture it, if you will. Two psycho, possibly rabid, hell birds dive bombing a struggling jogger who is doing her best to pretend there's nothing odd going on. I was NOT going to give these crazed fouls the satisfaction of having me flail my arms about my head, or demonstrate any other sign of distress. Nope, nothing to see here. Move along, please.
I'm not a superstitious person, and I don't believe in signs or spirit animals or anything like that. But I'll admit I was a little afraid to return home in case these were harbingers of doom and I'd have a message relaying some family tragedy waiting for me. Fortunately, that was not the case. But I can't get those damn birds out of my mind. I mean, it takes a girl several months to make an attempt to exercise, and this is what she's greeted with?
Maybe they were attracted to the shiny grey hairs that protrude from my head like little wire antennas. Hey, if my greys make a nice lining to a nest, the crows are welcome to them. But ask, okay? You don't have to kill me and then strip the carcass.
So, today I'm heading to the gym. Nature is too intense.
PS. As I write this I'm lying on my bed. The wind is alternately sucking my curtain all the way out the window, then pushing it all the way back in so it touches my ceiling. It looks like it's riding on a slow an irregularly paced swing. Not only is it giving me inconsistent lighting to write by, it's also making me sort of nauseous. Any bets on whether the next gust will reveal a scary crow hovering outside my window, getting ready to attack? I've done nothing to your kind! Nothing!
Leave me alone!