Roadkill Has the Runs

Lately as I've been running in the afternoons, with fairly low humidity (25% to 35%) and a heat index well into the 100s, I sometimes think of Dune (despite the plants, which, while often fairly bleached out, are still there). So when I have to spit, I aim for leaves; water's kind of precious around here at the moment.

Running that time of day, my times aren't the best, but I get the most workout for the time invested. Nevermind that I really enjoy it (except when it's hot and humid).

I try to run all year round, so I build up to the heat in the summer and cold in the winter. (I cheat; I have a wind suit for when it gets below 60, but hey, I'm not 20 any more, even though I feel like it most days.)

I can run on a treadmill if I have to (say, if it's cold, rainy, and everyone around me has a cold), but I'd rather not.

The trails call me. The weather calls me. The sky calls me. The plants call me. The cicadas and crickets call me, the birds and lizards call me, the runners and bikers call me. The fire hydrant in the woods calls me. (No, not to pee!)

My current shoes are the first real running shoes I've ever owned. I have no idea how many miles I have put on them (the records from when I first started trying to get back in shape a few years ago were lost), but I'm guessing it's between 500 and 1,000. Not what a serious runner would put on, but I'm happy being me, and running 1-2 miles 2-3x a week with the occasional 5K thrown in is about right for my body.

I inspected my shoes a week or so ago because the left one felt funny. I couldn't find anything at the time, but yesterday part of one heel started to come loose; it's time for some new ones. When I bought these, I was a bit skeptical, but they've held up really well, and my feet and legs have been happier than they ever were in the past when I tried to run. Dr. School's, and later Ironman, pads have helped as well.

So has prayer. My shin splints are gone. I had given up hope on losing those years ago. Silly Miles. As a wise man once said, "Never surrender! Never give up!"

While some of my friends seem to feel as if we're in Narnia under the grip of the White Witch's hot[1], evil twin ("It's always summer, and never Labor Day"), I'm content with this endless summer. Today's an off day, so no running. But it's a good day for an upper body workout, so I think I'll grab a breaker bar and pick and go bust some rocks.


[1] Take that however you like. Only a fool falls for an evil witch. Just ask Edmund.

Doe, a Deer

We found a baby deer in our yard today. A seriously spotted fawn, planted by its mama in our rock garden. It lay still as could be until we got really close, marginally hidden between our house's gray slab and several red yucca.

We didn't see the doe. Well, we may have. One was resting in shade under a tree about 40 yards away. But that doe was still there a couple of hours later whereas the fawn had disappeared.

We've seen this before. Usually we've seen the fawns in plain sight, maybe in 3" or 4" tall grass, as if something sticking up 10-12 inches were well hidden there. Usually this happens while the grass is green; the extended drought this year has left everything straw colored, closer to white than brown.

What's different for me is that I could appreciate the fawn, took pictures, made sure Lizzie Bear saw it (Tyler already had), rather than chasing it off. I was always able to see their beauty, but didn't want them in my yard. Or anywhere nearby.

For years I saw deer only as pests. And make no mistake, there is a pestilential side to them. They eat many of Sharon's flowers. They drop ticks the way dandelions drop seeds on a windy, spring day. They leave deer berries (poop) everywhere even more than they do ticks. They tear up our fence, jumping over it but not high enough. And they have a bad habit of not only running or walking out in front of moving vehicles, but of lunging into the sides of vehicles that stopped to avoid hitting the deer. Smart is not their strong suit.

So for years I did my best to chase them off. For a while I shot their backsides with BB guns. (I can hear the howls of protest. This doesn't injure them, it simply stings. Having been shot before, I know.) They kept coming back.

When the BB gun died I switched to throwing rocks near (not at) them. This didn't work nearly as well, and when it did... they kept coming back.

Finally I settled on tossing fireworks (fireworks are legal in Texas) out into the yard. This worked really well, usually causing the deer to teleport so far away I never knew where they went. It's probably my fault they never shared this technology with us.

They always came back.

In the meantime, we tried using human hair around the plants to chase them away. This would work for a few days, but we had to constantly be putting hair out, and if it wasn't freshly cut, it didn't really work. Sometimes even fresh cut hair didn't help.

So we started peeing round the Flowers.

No, really.

OK, we cheated. We kept a cup in the bathroom, peed in that and poured it around the flowers. We did this several times a day, and it usually worked if we kept it up and it didn't rain all the time. (That hasn't been a problem this year.)

Near the end of the several years of using the BB gun on them, we saw _Evan Almighty_, Somewhere in there, the "Acts of Random Kindness" bit attached itself to a mental image of deer. I scoffed at it and moved on.

After a couple of years, that had become a refrain that played every time I saw a deer in the yard or even in the neighborhood. It began to dawn on me that maybe someone (and I don't mean Morgan Freeman) was suggesting I learn to accept the deer and live at peace with them.

I started by simply not chasing them around the yard until they left when I drove up.

When I ran out of fireworks, I didn't get any more for deer dispersal purposes. Nor did I resume throwing rocks, or fix the BB gun.

Eventually I learned to live at peace with them.

And so, today, I smile, encourage the grandkids to look closely, and take pictures.

We still pee round the flowers.