As a runner (ha, 10 miles a week for the last few months, can I still call myself a runner??) in rural New England, I expect to see some wildlife and animals while out on my run.
Countless squirrels and birds, hundreds of dogs and kitties, equal amounts of horses and cows, as well as the occasional deer or so.
I run in general on back roads with minimal traffic, but enough that rarely am I scared of seeing some sort of animal that will cause me harm--though when dogs start barking and lunging at me, I always tense up. But in general, I feel pretty safe.
Until yesterday's run in my parent's neighborhood.
I was just getting to this huge hill, and I knew I would need a lot of focus and attention to make it even 3/4 to the top without having to stop for a little walk break. At the bottom of the hill is an old farm. Just as I pass the farm, I hear this rustling in the leaves and I casually look over to see
a rooster the worlds LARGEST rooster coming after me.
|Yup, this looks like an accurate description of the cock.|
He puffed himself up, CAME OUT OF HIS YARD, and started chasing my ass up the hill. I shit you not.
There would be no "slow and steady, take it easy" up that hill, no sir. That fucking rooster, hand to god, was on my heals chasing after me, sprinting as fast as I could, up the hill.
And I never gained on him! He was always right there.
(Fact: roosters scare me a bit, because they have claws and beaks, and this one was the size of a small dog.)
I finally had to reach down and grab a rock and throw it at him, at which point he got the point.
I continued to sprint up the hill of death for a few more feet until I felt I was at safe distance to stop and keel over in agony.
And that my friends, is how you do hill sprints.