I’m sorry people. I couldn’t do it. I tried. I even timidly walked back to the spot where they were, camera in hand, but as soon as they started flapping their wings, I was off running. I was NOT going to be vulture bait.
I have run with dogs, and cows, and horses, and chickens, even some rabbits here and there. But not until I arrived in Sonoma County did I ever run with vultures. And let me just say, never again do I want to run with vultures, because as much as I kept telling myself we were just running together, that it was no big deal, I think it was more them chasing me as though I were a hunk of decaying flesh dangling before their eyes.
Mario and I rented a guest house in the country, just outside Santa Rosa. It was a beautiful spot, reminded me of what I envision a retreat would be. We had apple trees and tomato trees, an outdoor pool (that had I known prior, I could have brought my bathing suit and gone aqua jogging in) and a lonely hot tub on our patio. In the mornings we were woken up to deers peering through our window and to the half-assed cock-a-doodle-doo of a drunken rooster, and in the evenings we were seranaded by crickets and frogs and other such unsightly creatures. It was beautiful and relaxing, it really, really was.
And then, there was the run.
It started out promising.
I had to walk down a long dirt path to get to the road. At the end of the path, I was faced with 2 choices: I could turn right and run down a 16% grade hill of which I would have had to run back up again, or turn left and go a route featuring more rolling type hills. I chose the steep hill. I wanted a solid challenge and a 16% grade hill, I thought would be a pretty darn good challenge.
I started along that way, but stopped just short of the sign so I could snap a picture for proof. As I was putting the camera back, I caught a glimpse of a big, burly, don’t mess with me, scary looking creature that had an angry red head and was flapping its wings under the apple tree not 10 feet away from me. Uhm, okay, I thought, maybe that’s just a really large crow??? I craned my head up and holy crap there were like four more perched on the powerline directly above me. Oh crud! Those ain’t no crows, they’re freaking vultures, and they got hungry eyes! Eeeeeeeeeeeek!!! And off I was running the rolling hills route. There was no bloody way I was climbing a 16% grade hill, huffing and puffing, with vultures perched at the peak. Nope, wasn’t going to happen!
- 9 a.m. BG before: 8.6
- Temp. basal: -50 per cent
- Distance: 5.16 km (5 hills)
- Average pace: 6:01 min/km
- Best pace: 4:42 min/km (bet it was right after spotting them vultures)
- Time: 31.04
- 10 a.m. BG after: 3.5
Next up: A little McDreamy wrapped around my shoulders and a Levi in my eyes