This morning I made breakfast for my boys and then sent them on their adventure. They headed to see the Grandparents and left Mama to keep on packin'. I waited until they had left before I laced up my running shoes (which was much simpler without my G man hanging on my leg), put in my ear buds (another luxury) and hit the running trail. This is usually at least a 6 step process: Get myself dressed, G man dressed, feed G breakfast, attempt to lace up my shoes, strap G man into the stroller, and round up the dog.
I felt great without the usual 45 lbs of baby and stroller I'm used to pushing. I'm literally trucking along, making pretty good time for a fat kid, when BAM...the deer fly gang identified me as an intruder in their space and began to plan my take down. This was shortly after the Great Pyrenees tried to take out my pansy ass Border Collie and scared the remaining 0.5% of oxygen left in my lungs right out of them.
The attack began with 1, and quickly multiplied into a gang of 100. They were going for the Jugular. I was swatting left and right, jumping up and down, shimmying, shaking, and spinning around just to try to get these damn things off me. It was about that time I realized I had made it back to the home of the Great Pyrenees, whose owner's were probably laughing their hearts out inside their window at the idiot attempting to run by their guard dog.
I made it out alive with only 1 welt from the deer fly gang. Don't worry, pesky little flies, I'll be back with ammunition next time.
Remember when I said you should stake yourself on my running route for a good dose of free entertainment? Well today was not a let down for the neighbors. Happy Wednesday!
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