I have been running since the age of ten, when Jon and I decided to follow in Greg’s footsteps. He in turn was following in the footsteps of David Horstman, our neighbor and avid runner (and if memory serves me right, a member of University of Dubuque’s 1970 IIAC Championship Cross Country team).
In all those years, I’ve had some pretty interesting things that have happened. I’ve won races. Been put on the hood of cars. Gotten injured. Ran with some of the greats. Been chased by dogs and people. Gotten into fights. Gotten bloody. Seen a bobcat and crossed paths with a mountain lion.
Today, however, marked the first time I’ve ever had a bird attack me mid run.
Steph and I were out on a nice, easy 7 mile run when we crossed the road to get onto the trail. Just as we did that, I heard this horrible screech and felt my hair get all tussled. I ducked, then spotted a black bird flying away. Apparently I took the corner too wide and got a bit too close to its nest. Little thing came out and drove me off. I wish I had my heart rate monitor on at the time because that would be quite a spike in the graph.
I can just see it now – strutting around that nest, waiting for its mate to come home so it can say “I drove off a predator today. What did you do? Oh, get a little worm? Was that hard?”