Running Through an Orgy

This blog entry is rated G, I promise. No humans, except for me, were involved, harmed, or had intimate contact during this run.

The plan was to get out of the house early this morning, and now I really wish I had, to take a 14-mile run. But, my legs were tired, and so was it from walking up and down the firing line at the range, making sure that everyone was safe, and practicing safe rifle and pistol skills. Yes, the day’s heat, sun, dust, and walking took its toll on this old body. So I got up later than planned and ran shorter only six and a half miles.

I decided on my standard 6.5-mile route that is made up of 4 miles of concrete/asphalt and 2.5 miles of trail. I was out the door at 0733, it was still cool, and the sun had only been out for 45 minutes. Since it was still too early for the Californians to up and out, the dust and exhaust fumes had not yet ruined the crisp, clean morning air.

The first mile is all hills, and while running, I question why I was running at all. Every excuse not to run flipped through my head like flashcards with every foot strike on the sidewalk. I’ve become good at refusing to listen to my brain and its anti-run rants. By mile two, my brain gave up its attempts to make me stop, and I had hit my aerobic running pace and was feeling quite good. I even considered pushing my run to 10 miles. The following 3 miles were uneventful, and it would not be until I got to the trails and mile 5.6 where the run would take an exciting turn. It all started unexpectedly and resulted in a runner with his arms flailing and body contorting. Positions not meant for running and ending in me yacking at the side of the trail trying to get the swarm of orgy practicing little buggers out of my face, ears, nose, and throat.

If anyone had been watching me from their houses on the hill, I must have looked like a crazy person who had decided to take up running on crack cocaine. Boy, I must have been a sight.

You see, by the time I reached the point on the trail where it runs along the edge of Fenton Pond, the sun was high enough in the sky to warm the ground and air to the point where these little flying creatures called Midges find it perfect to swarm and mate. So it would seem that the open area of the path I was on made a perfect zone for their mating orgy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had only run through one or two swarms. But, this was not the case today; every eight to ten feet, I was hitting a swarm, and they seemed to get thicker and thicker. By the fourth swarm, they were in my nose, and some found their way into my throat as I attempted to get air after expelling the bugs from my nose.

Yacket-yak, I didn’t like that. But do you think it stopped me from continuing my run? Nope, I’m a glutton for punishment, so onward! Hacking while running from the bugs still lodged in my windpipes, no amount of water helped; the next half-mile was absolute hell.

Oh, how wonderful it was to be away from Fenton Pond at mile 6.3. By mile 7, my throat, ears, and eyes were completely bug-free.

I never even dreamed that I would ever be part of an orgy, and until I looked up exactly what it was, I ran through on YouTube I didn’t know such orgies existed or why. The silver lining from that experience is now I know something I hadn’t before. Yes, more useless trivia to clog my already over-taxed brain.