Catastrophe

Yesterday I went out for a run when I got home from work. I was supposed to do 9 miles, and I was only able to do 6 in the morning. My GI tract, still upset about the amount of food I dumped into it at dinner on Tuesday, had other plans for me and I was forced to return (sprint) home. Therefore, in the spirit of adhering to my schedule, I returned to the sidewalks for those remaining 3 miles. It was a beautiful late summer afternoon, about 72 degrees and sunny. I was working on about an 8:00/mile pace (aided by my song obsession of the moment, "Dominos," again). On the sidewalk about 100 feet in front of me I saw a woman walking with her back to me. As I got closer, the small black smudge I saw next to her arm resolved itself into a cat. She was carrying a cat. I've done this particular walk myself: cat escapes, must be found and retrieved and brought home cradled in my arms. I had a sinking feeling as I approached. I just knew what was about to happen. I should have slowed down, or said something, or done something, rather than just barreling up behind the woman, because the moment that cat saw me it propelled itself violently out of the woman's arms into the air. I know exactly how that feels. The cat uses your skin as its launch pad. I have scars on my left forearm where Darwin leaped out of my arms once.

The cat landed easily on the front walk of the woman's house, sat down, and looked no worse for wear. She looked around, startled. As I went by, I did the only thing I could, which seems inadequate and lame even now, which was to say, "I'm sorry!" I have a feeling it was more of a yell since I had my iPod headphones jammed into my ears and the music turned up and I couldn't really hear myself.

Whoops.

I finished off my 3.23 miles shortly afterward and then made myself pasta alla Norma (pasta with eggplant and tomatoes) for dinner using eggplant from my farm share. It was absolutely delicious.