Something strange happened to me last night; so strange, I’m compelled to tell you about it even though I haven’t had my first cup of coffee.
I started my evening walk normally enough, with Roxy at my side.
We took off at a moderate pace and against my better judgement, I turned up the volume on my iPod slighter higher than I normally do.
As we passed the cemetery, something startled me.
Fear made my skin crawl and my mind was bombarded with zombie scenes like those featured in the Walking Dead.
However, upon turning around, I realized a girl on her bike was patiently waiting for Roxy and me to get out of the way.
We let her pass and continued on our way.
However, my fear induced state of agitation continued, and I found myself walking at a faster pace.
As I passed the roundabout that lead to our house, I continued to walk faster and faster.
Roxy, warrior that she is, kept up valiantly.
Attributing my energized state to the adrenaline hit I had received back at the cemetery, I powered on, ignoring the street that led to our house.
Instead, I found myself heading for the roundabout a second time.
Almost at a trot, Roxy and I pushed on.
Suddenly, I became aware that the niggling worries that had bothered me when I started my walk, had disappeared.
They had been replaced with a blank state of mind.
Yes, folks, my mind was blank.
No thoughts. No worries. No preoccupations.
Just Roxy and I trotting at breakneck speed.
(Now that I think about it, I realize anyone looking out the window must’ve thought we were two crack heads out for a psychedelic power walk.)
Passing the roundabout a third time, something did pop into my head.
It was the scene of from the movie, National Lampoon’s European Vacation; the one where Chevy Chase’s character and his family are in London and he’s unable to switch lanes.
Over and over, they drive past Big Ben, unable to get to the left lane that leads to the exit.
For some reason, I felt like Chevy must’ve felt when he couldn’t slow down to switch lanes.
In the meantime, Roxy made the unfortunate move to make a poop stop.
This resulted in her being pulled; half the turd still attached to her butt.
Again we passed the street that lead to our house and again we ignored it.
Faster and faster we power walked.
The idea that I was under the effects of a runner’s high, even though I wasn’t running, did enter my mind.
Yes, surely that must be it.
I felt like I was on overdrive, yet light as a feather.
The world was my oyster, but only if I kept going.
I realized this was the reason marathon runners looked so emaciated.
They had discovered the runner’s high, and unwilling to let it go, they had paved the pavement until they weighed 90 pounds.
As I neared the roundabout a fourth time, Roxy gave me a look that said, “Bitch, are you crazy?”
Ignoring her, I kept going, intent on retaining the feeling of elation.
However, when we took the bend, our crazed walk was halted by the sight of two men in a car waving frantically.
Afraid that Roxy had fainted from exhaustion and I’d been dragging an empty leash, I paused long enough to remove an ear bud.
That’s when I heard the two words that brought me out of my adrenaline trance: “Nice ass!”
Like a meteor falling from the sky, I plummeted to earth; my state of nirvana gone just as suddenly.
Roxy, panting next to me, still found the energy to wag her tail, while I flipped them off.
Slowly, we walked the rest of the way home; Maxine Nightingale screaming through my ear buds, “We gotta get right back to where we started from.”
And that we did.
Roxy, me, and my nice ass.