M is for Moose
Many people come up North and then want to go farther North to see moose. They return and show me pictures and I think, maybe I should go see moose, I mean they’re not that far away.
But no more.
A couple years ago, on a normal day like any other, I slipped into my running clothes and sneakers, ready for my daily run. I stretched and did some jumping jacks #notreallybecauseIcan’tdojumpingjacksanymoreafterhavingthreekids. #momsunderstand
I breathed in the crisp fall air, looking forward to crunching through the dead leaves on the dirt roads behind my house.
While I ran, I did the normal eccentric things I do while running. I talked to myself. I reworked queries in my head, searching for that perfect first hooky line. I talked myself into or out of thinking my writing sucks. I jumped at the squirrels running around in the brush. #i’mjumpylikethat #i’vehaddeersrunacrosstheroad
But this one day, I stopped halfway and stretched, looked up and saw a moose about 50 yards away. I thought it was pretty cool, so I continued to study him. Until he started clip clopping toward me.
In that one second, my heart leapt from my chest and I swear I left it in the road. With terror racing through my veins and, me, breaking out in a sweat – and not because I was running – I jogged up the road toward home.
I peeked back over my shoulder to see if he was following me. This huge, dark-colored beast had his eyes trained on me and not because I looked cute in my running clothes. #freakingout
And I started sprinting.
I soon realized I couldn’t outrun a beast with legs as tall as my house. #seriously #nothyperbole
I took a quick right into someone’s driveway and sprinted into the garage, ready to bang on their windows and cry for sanctuary.
The moose stopped where I turned right. He sniffed the air, first left, then right; and then turned left. #ididn’trunforaweek #whenididrunihadfasttimes
So, do you want to come up North and take pictures of the pretty moose?