Good Friday Eve.
I ran in my neighborhood this morning, for the first time in months. I know what you're saying. Where was Susan and T'knesha? Well, T'knesha is M.I.A. I've been taught to not leave a man behind, but I don't know where she is. Last night Susan called me at about 11 p.m.. I wasn't bothered by it, but it did catch me off guard since I usually go to bed around 8:30 p.m. to wake at 4:30 a.m.. When I heard the phone ring I jumped up and stared at the clock. "Why is my clock waking me with such a non-threatening, musical alarm?" A few more notes chime when I realize it isn't the clock. "Phone!" I rush into the darkness of my living room. "Did I leave the phone on the charger?" Heading for the kitchen counter, phone still ringing. "No." Run back the other way. "Where in the .... okay, just follow the noise." I snatch the phone still inserted in it's pocket on my wallet. "Open the flap, Michelle." For some reason, my extremties don't function well when there is no ambient light to move to. Releasing the phone, I squint at the numbers. "Who in the world is calling me? Hello?" It was Susan to say she wouldn't be able to run in the morning. "Oh!. Okay." Once the call ended, I had such an adrenaline rush. And I couldn't figure what I had just happened.
Anyway, I went running alone. It was nice. The neighborhood looks the same. I saw a lady letting her Chow use other peoples lawns as it's toilet. I did the loop pretty quick and decided to do it a second time but to include the hills. Before my second lap however, I saw it. The White Van! It drove past on Old Canton as I was approaching it from the Village Glen. He must have been checking on me to see if I have made any progress. I turned and I didn't look back. In the back of my mind I do wonder if the view looks different than before. Understand, I am not telling you to check out my ass on the next run, but just give it a quick peek for reference and memory so that when I get to Chicago, if I haven't changed, you'll know to lie when I ask the question. Honestly, its not like I can't feel it back there...bounding behind me with every step. I'd try to out run it, but it catches up.
Speaking of bodies, I was skimming through a health magazine. I noticed an ad with a woman who appeared to be physically fit. Hardly any bodyfat. I noticed that she was rather flat chested. Makes sense, since she is physically active and petite. But that got me thinking about human evolution. Would it be safe to say that maybe the women with flat to barely-there chests were originally meant to be the hunters or predators, if you will? And those with ample bosoms were to be the breeders or prey? After tossing this idea around I thought of my thighs. Quite massive compared to the rest of me. Hunters would need to be agile, with quick, cat-like reflexes. Rotund thighs would be a hinderence to the hunt. They would be ideal for the prey, hibernating. But I am blessed with a barely-there chest. More deliberation.
So, am I to consider that I, in my species, am the equivalent to...say, the Platypus? It's not a beaver or a duck, yet it has webbed feet and a duck's bill. What do platypus' do? Do they serve a unique purpose like a beaver creating dams? Or do they mock me, traveling aimlessly, searching places to maybe fit in? Do you even hear about platypuses nowadays? Are they extinct or hulled up somewhere in the wilderness with a Platypus Support Group? Telling one another to 'not sweat it and let it roll off their back like water on a duck.' Do they dress up like beavers and go dam-tipping, just to blame it on the mean beaver that is nasty to all the other animals. The more I think about it, maybe I'll start a support group of my own for women of extraordinary figure. I'll call it Women of Genuine Prowess. Rrrrrr.
Until then, I'll stick to my current mascot, the Hound.

Oh, and since I am unable to get to a computer after this, I am assuming the run is as usual on Saturday at the Counseling Center. If not, I'll just show up anyway, I could us the drive.
Take care!