Just One Marathon

Hitchcock Was Right

My lunchtime run today was quick but slow. Quick because I planned a short 4K route with a few 400 metre intervals. Slow in the sense that I felt tired and sluggish the whole time and ended up abandoning any pretence that I was doing speed work about halfway through the run.

 

The only good moment came right at the end, as I was rounding the last corner and travelling a trail through a small copse. As I ran, I scanned the treetops – a bad habit for a runner, I know, but I come from a family of birders so it’s a hard one to break. When I saw a flash of colour and an interesting shape my body automatically twisted to follow the bird's path.  Unfortunately, while my torso turned, my feet kept travelling forward and I ended up pitching headlong across the trail and into the brush. It was a minor fall resulting in just a little road rash. It was my pride that hurt the most, because I’m not sure but I think I might have looked spectacularly uncool for a moment there.

 

Luckily for me, the cedar waxwing was the only witness. He showed no reaction while I picked myself up, brushed myself off and resumed my run. But I bet he “tweeted” all his friends about it as soon as I turned the corner.

 

Almost a Catastrophe

Blogger Glavenwrote the other day about encountering an injured deer during a recent outing. It was a sad, poignant story but it reminded me of a happier animal encounter I had a couple of years ago.

I was cycling to work one morning along a very busy thoroughfare. As I laboured up a huge hill (I hate hills on two wheels as much as I do on two feet), I spied a small black-and-white lump in the middle of the road. The road was momentarily and uncharacteristically quiet as I approached what was plainly a small cat right in the middle of the left lane. As I drew closer, the cat moved, and I realized it was not dead (as I feared and expected) but alive and injured. A small spot of blood stained its head above its right ear. I slowed and looked back at the oncoming traffic, wondering how I was going to stop the inevitable rush of cars and rescue the poor stunned beast. I had just laid down my bike and was standing uncertainly by the side of the road when a vehicle approached.

 

As it came closer, I saw it was an ambulance. I waved to alert the truck to the cat’s presence, hoping it would change lanes. However, as the ambulance approached, it slowed to a stop right in front of the cat, its lights flashing to warn off other drivers. The paramedic in the passenger seat hopped out to join me in examining the cat, which was alert and docile but unable to move. The paramedic picked her up gently in gloved hands while we discussed what to do. “There’s a veterinarian’s office just down the street,” I said. “I would take her but I don’t know what I’d do with my bike.” The young woman thought about it for a second and then said, “We aren’t on a call right now and it’s less than five minutes away. We’ll drop her off. Just don’t tell anyone.” I swore I’d never tell her secret (though I hope that several years later, it’s safe with you, gentle readers).

 

She hopped back in the passenger seat of the ambulance carrying the stunned and bleeding animal, and they drove off to deliver what must be the luckiest cat in the world to the vet. I don’t know what happened to the cat, though I would have given anything to see the looks on the faces of the people in the veterinarian’s office when an ambulance delivered her. I do know I rode away that day with my faith in human kindness confirmed.