So I go out for my first walk of the season tonight. . .I stretch. . .well. . .and I take off at a fairly slow pace for me–long strides–arms up and moving. Not even a good 5 minutes into it, my right outside calf muscle feels as though it has a blow torch with it’s name on it–I slow down a little to see if that helps. It does. . .so I continue at my slower pace.
And then it starts burning again–really, really burning like “you need to stop now, now, now right this very second, NOW” burning. So I slow down even more and decide that I will a) go to the chiropractor tomorrow to get my hips straightened out–which is probably the cause of the blow torch feeling, b) stretch THREE TIMES A DAY until I’ve gotten back in the swing of things, and c) continue to walk at a slow pace to work out the burn before I get home.
I arrive at our neighborhood park. There is no sidewalk around the park, but I don’t really want to walk across the street, and I think that walking on the grass might be better at this juncture than walking on the concrete. The park is manicured–grass freshly cut–it is spongy, thick grass, and I have taken about four steps on it before I realize that it is spongy due to water, and just then my left foot lands in what can only be described as a very, very, very muddy with thick, slimy mud puddle. I guess a water main broke under there, because we haven’t had rain in over a week. My shoe is covered with really, really, slimy dark mud. My other shoe is drenched with just icky water, and at this point I decide to throw in the towel. I mean, seriously. . .
So, I get home and ring the doorbell. Tony answers the door, immediately looks at my mud-drenched shoe and says, “What is that? Bird poop?” I reply, “No, it’s mud. Open the garage door.” And in the time it took him to get to the garage and push the button, I had a moment for the following thought to dawn–breaking over me like a wave on the ocean. . .
EXACTLY WHAT SIZE BIRD WOULD IT HAVE TAKEN TO COMPLETELY COVER MY LEFT ATHLETIC SHOE IN POO?????
I’m not sure, but I AM sure that I don’t care to get close enough to it to let it poop on me or my shoe–especially if my foot is actually IN my shoe.