I decided to go for a walk this morning as part of the “easing back into running” process. Sounds like a good idea, right? A nice, gentle transition (Sidenote: Yes, as a matter of fact I am the type of person who inches into a cold pool and peels a bandaid off SLOWLY.) that helps me get accustomed to waking up early to exercise. I’m also hoping it will bore me enough that I’ll start running again in mental self defense. “Well, if I’m going to be up anyway I might as well get these 2 miles over with quicker!” That sort of thing.
Well, I had a Forrest Gump moment on my walk today. When I say that, I don’t mean that I suddenly decided to drop everything and run across the country. Repeatedly. (Obviously.) I also don’t mean that I metaphorically found a happy place where I “just feel like” running.
No, my Gump moment means I stepped in dog crap. Unlike Gump, my reaction was not a stoic and philosophical, “it happens.” No, my first thought was, “crap!” Once I was finished giggling at my own amazing command of the English language, my next thought was, “oh, that’s hilarious, universe. You know I’d rather be asleep right now, right? Must we make things harder than necessary?” Then I performed the please-get-this-crap-off-my-shoe shuffle, which of course only succeeded in working the mess deep into the crevices of my Mizunos. Hmph.
In my defense, it was mostly dark when the incident occurred. I saw what I believed to be one of those brown, spiky seed pods…why I determined that this would be ok to step on, I’m not sure. That’s exactly the kind of thing that’s forever getting stuck in the “perfect for picking up gravel, acorns, and other medium-sized objects” hole that all Mizunos conveniently have. Nevertheless, the thought process went, “oh, little round blob. Probably a seed pod. Not worth the energy to alter course. Proceed according to the preset coordinates!”
You never know what you’re going to get.