You have to picture the fact that we've had 72 inches of snow in December and this previous weekend is the first time the sun has been out all month. Although it was 16 degrees, I wanted to see blue sky and I chose to run six-miles outside instead of going to the gym. Better air.
Here's why I write.
I'm on mile four on loosely-country roads when I see this giant rooster walking along the double-yellow lines ahead. There are no driveways and definitely nowhere for the rooster to go. The snow banks are mighty high and there was this feathered beast strutting like he was The Beatles crossing Abby Road.
I became fearful.
I thought, "what if this cock decides to kill me as I run by?" I envisioned a story in the newspaper of me on the side of the road with pecks all over my body, blood pouring out. How would I explain that?
I kept running.
A car came toward me and saw the rooster, too. It slowed down and looked at the phenomena with the same gaze I did. Basically their "what the fudge" expression was contained within metal and glass, whereas my WTF was in layered clothing and Sauconys completely vulnerable to angst and frustration of a loose chicken.
The car proceeded slowly and created a barrier where I could sprint past the bird, avoiding any attack. The damn thing was huge (it had nice feathers, though - full off colors).
I made it by.
The car got past.
And as I ran away, He cockle-doodled-doo four times, loudly.
I took it as a sign that within everyday, cold, wintry, and unexpected, there's always the awakening call that another day will follow.