I started running again even though I hate it. But I have to be real. These muffin tops are not going to magically fall off the top of my ass without some help.
With each step on the treadmill I think, "This. Fucking. Sucks." Over and over again until I make it four miles. Which takes forever when you run as slow as dirt.
I decided fresh air should help ease the pain, so I took it outside.
It was a bright, sunny day. With my daughters on their bikes, we started on a path around the lake. It actually felt good. I was greeting other runners like I was one of them.
I was basically walking with a hop, which I term "jogging", when a fucking black crow swooped down on my head and attacked my scalp. I was screaming and waving my arms, fighting off this heinous bird. I was throwing punches toward the end just to make him pay with pain.
Seriously, who goes out for a jog and ends up having a fight with a fucking crow?
I'm certain it wanted to take me to its nest and feed me to its young. I don't understand how this shit happens to me. Has any other runner in this world been attacked by a bird while running?
I fucking doubt it.
I ran close to a 6 minute mile to reach my daughters on their bikes. My hair was all over the place and I think I had a black eye from my crow tussle. I was yelling, "Did you see that? Oh my God, did you see that bird attack me!? A bird attacked my head you guys!"
They looked at me like I was certifiably insane. The older one said, "Well, you're safe now, mom." Then looked at her sister like, "Mommy is fucking crazy but don't say it out loud."
I'm proud to say I haven't let this incident instill in me the fear of outdoors. However, I will never run around that again as long as I live. I just don't have it in me to fight off another bird while trying to maintain a swift 10 minute pace.