Deer Woman

A deer ran past me this morning on my run.

And when I say deer I mean ridiculously tall woman.

Her legs surged with muscles you’ll never see on mine. And for the few brief seconds we intersected, there was a pattern that went something like this:

Deer woman: picked right leg up.

Me: shuffle, shuffle, shuffle

Deer woman: put right leg down.

Me: shuffle, shuffle, shuffle

For the next mile or so on my run, I wondered just how slow I was. Now, it’s easy to dismiss Deer Woman. Of course she’s faster than me. She’s got at least a foot on me. But I began to have flashbacks over my prestigious running career.

There was that one run with Jill. I told her that I was still getting back in shape after having Carter. She said that was fine. And then not even three tenths of a mile into the run, she tells me she’s won the Westchase 5K several times.  We soon parted ways (my pace made her knee hurt).

Last week, I ran 5 miles with my brother Brandon. When I asked if he wanted to run again, he said no with a smirk. “Running at that pace gave me blisters.”

So, I run by myself.

Slowly.

 And at the risk of being run over by antelopes, deer and other freakishly fast creatures.