Run when chased…

Vet school is bad for your health in so many ways.  The constant surges of cortisol, the sleepless nights, the feeling of low self esteem, etc.  But perhaps most visible to all is the effect that sitting for over 40 hrs a week has on ones physique.  My classmate told us a hilarious story this week about shopping for a pair of pants, and his trip to the dressing room with a pant size he thought he wore.  Although I don’t need to go on a shopping spree just yet (and don’t have the money to do so anyways) I have noticed that my pants are a bit on the snug side.  So I have attempted now (twice) to run.  Some of you are probably clapping your hands in glee, thinking I’ve fallen into the runners cult, and others are wondering if I’ve gone mad.  I will not tell you how far I ran as it is an embarrassing distance.  My most recent forays into running involved a close connection in the Seattle airport, and I think I lost pieces of my lungs in the process. 

Today was a very, very poor performance.  Inca and I set out to brave the wind and of course were promptly rained on.  This was the first time I tried running with Inca and her method of running in a zig-zag pattern proved disastrous for us both.  I finally huffed and puffed my way to the school behind my house just in time to watch the children trickle in from their morning recess.  I decided to walk the short bit of side walk back to my home.  I broke my own rule of never allowing Inca to run in the school yard during school hours and sent her bounding across the green after a raven.  I knew the kids had just gone inside and I was only going to walk about a 100 ft of cement before being off school grounds.  While bending over to grab the present Inca promptly left the school house, I was accosted by a barrage of shouts from the school door and a rather large woman, in rather short, shorts, came striding across the grass towards me.  She looked about as happy as I was to be outside in the pouring rain.  Realizing that I was cleaning up after Inca, she softened her tirade of "no dogs allowed" to a "thank you for picking up, but you really can't be here."  My decision to not put Inca's work collar on her before departing the stoop came back to bite me in the butt as she promptly ignored my command to come and ran over to the lady.  Although not hackled up she was not running over for a pet.  My whistle broke her out of her trot to investigate, but not before barking what I construe to be a doggy expletive at the lady.  I think the universe is trying to tell me that I should maybe stick to my motto of "run when chased".  However my pants are telling me otherwise.