skinny.
It only takes a few minutes before I start huffing and puffing, which I find quite pathetic. Even in my sports days I wasn't always in peak fitness, but I could run a couple miles without breaking a sweat. Now, I've just run a half-mile and can already feel that pain in the left side of my stomach. Why is it that you always feel that sharp pain on one side? It's as if your right and left abdomen are communicating amongst themselves to decide which one is going to hurt this time. This sharp pain makes me stop to catch my breath. I bend over and start to feel my lunch making its way to the back of my throat. All of this from just four minutes of running, it absolutely baffles me how anyone can run for four hours during a marathon. I bend over with my hands on my knees, something my coaches repeatedly told me not to do when you're tired. I never understood this theory either. I start dry heaving, but I don't end up losing my lunch. When I catch my breath, I continue walking home.
If there's anything that my little run has helped me with, it's that I'm not hungry anymore. I'm more motivated than ever to get home so I can lie on the couch and forget this awful day ever happened. Of course, it's not like I have a lot of bountiful food choices when I get home. It's hard to make anything delicious without a stove, oven, or even a microwave. Monday is supposed to be grocery night after I get off of work but today hasn't exactly been my normal routine. My luxurious food options when I get back will amount to cereal or a couple un-toasted Pop-Tarts. As stressful as today has been, I may give myself a little treat and have both.
As I continue walking I see I'm close to where I would make a right turn if I was in my car, but since I'm not, I can take my first shortcut through a couple neighbors' yards to save time.
Right as I'm about to do this though, I hear something. It isn't the small wind rustling the trees or the sound of birds chirping.
When I turn around, I see it far in the distance. It's making its way toward me down the road I just came from. At first, it looks like a cat but it's hard to tell being so far away. My limited knowledge of cats though knows they are more likely to run away from danger than instigate it. No, this isn't a cat. As it gets closer I see it's a dog -- a rottweiler. A very mean and angry rottweiler that's looking to make me its next meal.
Chapter 7
Judging the distance, I guess the dog is about three quarters of a mile away and closing in fast. Its ferocious barks make it sound like it is very angry with me and seeking punishment.
Unfortunately, I have two fears: a fear of heights, and a fear of being chased. While I sometimes run into my fear of heights when traveling, my fear of being chased rarely comes up. The last time was when some of my drunken college friends and I decided to go to a haunted maze. Everything was fine until Michael Myers came out and started chasing us with a fake chainsaw. Out of all of us, I was the only one who took off running and screaming like a little girl. I honest-to-God thought the guy had a real chainsaw until he got up next to me and didn't chop me in half. He was probably wondering if I was just messing with him; I wasn't. I've never seen my friends laugh so hard.
Now I have this insane dog running at me and my heart rate couldn't beat faster. It's amazing how life-threatening moments can instantaneously take you from very calm to energetic enough to lift a car. Adrenaline has an unbelievable storage system for moments like this.
I turn my head to look for something, anything that can keep me out of harm's way. I know I have absolutely no chance of outrunning this dog so I also look for some kind of weapon I can use. There's a tree next to me with a small stick by the trunk. The moment I pick up the stick I know it would do little good to protect me, so I throw it back to the ground. The tree next to me is impossible to climb -- no
It only takes a few minutes before I start huffing and puffing, which I find quite pathetic. Even in my sports days I wasn't always in peak fitness, but I could run a couple miles without breaking a sweat. Now, I've just run a half-mile and can already feel that pain in the left side of my stomach. Why is it that you always feel that sharp pain on one side? It's as if your right and left abdomen are communicating amongst themselves to decide which one is going to hurt this time. This sharp pain makes me stop to catch my breath. I bend over and start to feel my lunch making its way to the back of my throat. All of this from just four minutes of running, it absolutely baffles me how anyone can run for four hours during a marathon. I bend over with my hands on my knees, something my coaches repeatedly told me not to do when you're tired. I never understood this theory either. I start dry heaving, but I don't end up losing my lunch. When I catch my breath, I continue walking home.
If there's anything that my little run has helped me with, it's that I'm not hungry anymore. I'm more motivated than ever to get home so I can lie on the couch and forget this awful day ever happened. Of course, it's not like I have a lot of bountiful food choices when I get home. It's hard to make anything delicious without a stove, oven, or even a microwave. Monday is supposed to be grocery night after I get off of work but today hasn't exactly been my normal routine. My luxurious food options when I get back will amount to cereal or a couple un-toasted Pop-Tarts. As stressful as today has been, I may give myself a little treat and have both.
As I continue walking I see I'm close to where I would make a right turn if I was in my car, but since I'm not, I can take my first shortcut through a couple neighbors' yards to save time.
Right as I'm about to do this though, I hear something. It isn't the small wind rustling the trees or the sound of birds chirping.
When I turn around, I see it far in the distance. It's making its way toward me down the road I just came from. At first, it looks like a cat but it's hard to tell being so far away. My limited knowledge of cats though knows they are more likely to run away from danger than instigate it. No, this isn't a cat. As it gets closer I see it's a dog -- a rottweiler. A very mean and angry rottweiler that's looking to make me its next meal.
Chapter 7
Judging the distance, I guess the dog is about three quarters of a mile away and closing in fast. Its ferocious barks make it sound like it is very angry with me and seeking punishment.
Unfortunately, I have two fears: a fear of heights, and a fear of being chased. While I sometimes run into my fear of heights when traveling, my fear of being chased rarely comes up. The last time was when some of my drunken college friends and I decided to go to a haunted maze. Everything was fine until Michael Myers came out and started chasing us with a fake chainsaw. Out of all of us, I was the only one who took off running and screaming like a little girl. I honest-to-God thought the guy had a real chainsaw until he got up next to me and didn't chop me in half. He was probably wondering if I was just messing with him; I wasn't. I've never seen my friends laugh so hard.
Now I have this insane dog running at me and my heart rate couldn't beat faster. It's amazing how life-threatening moments can instantaneously take you from very calm to energetic enough to lift a car. Adrenaline has an unbelievable storage system for moments like this.
I turn my head to look for something, anything that can keep me out of harm's way. I know I have absolutely no chance of outrunning this dog so I also look for some kind of weapon I can use. There's a tree next to me with a small stick by the trunk. The moment I pick up the stick I know it would do little good to protect me, so I throw it back to the ground. The tree next to me is impossible to climb -- no
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