I had a really nice four mile run this morning and I’m going to tell you more about it in a minute, but first let me start with the dog:
There I was, running along, listening to my music way too loud, when I saw a woman with a medium-sized poodle-looking dog on a leash walking toward me. Super cute, fluffy dog. I watched as she pulled the leash a little closer to her, which, as a runner, I totally appreciate more than the dog-walkers who let their dogs roam about on long leashes designed to clothesline me at the ankles. As I got closer, I smiled and said good morning to her, and I was just looking down at the cute puppy dog and about to use my high squeaky voice to say hello when that fucker lunged at me.
I mean luuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnged. Teeth bared. Little body on high alert, ready to eat me. She had to use both hands on the leash to keep him under “control.” And it was funny because I was already thinking about today’s post when it happened, but there it was, the perfect illustration of what I wanted to talk about:
|Me. Every time.|
|There were so many of these, and they were all funny. Google “expectations vs. reality.”|