Most mornings I get up early and go for a run or a walk. I love the time to myself, the quiet of the morning when others are still at home, when it is pretty much just me and nature. The world seems different at that time of the day, and I find it is a time when I can reflect on life and its issues, think up new writing ideas, and solve the world’s problems all at the same time. It sounds idyllic, imagine having the world to yourself, even for only an hour. And idyllic it is, until the seagulls turn up. You may ask what is wrong with seagulls, what could they possibly do to ruin my zen moment? Never mind those seagulls who have been stealing food out of people’s hands. Don’t even consider those which decide to shit just at the precise time so it lands on your favourite top/in your hair, as you arrive at that crucial interview or social event. Those seagulls have nothing on the ones I encounter on a regular basis.
As I run, I am surrounded by the sea on one side, and tree covered hills on the other. It’s a beautiful route, and I am fully appreciative of my surroundings. I am in the zone, thinking I run like a professional, although my laboured breath suggests otherwise-I really do need to get a reality check sometimes. And then I round the corner, and as I run along the bay, it starts. The sound is undeniable, a piercing angry screech. Something sounds really pissed off. Looking up, I see first one, then two, and sometimes up to six very angry looking seagulls. Now, you may ask how I know they are angry, well it’s not so much their looks, as their actions.
As soon as they are close enough, they take it in turns to dive bomb me. I can tell you now, that to be dive bombed by a seagull is not a pleasant thing, and in fact can be a little bit intimidating (read terrifying). Think ‘Running of the Bulls’ with feathers. They swoop so low that I can almost smell the fish that they had for breakfast. This aerial assault lasts for several minutes, they follow me for 500 metres or more, not giving up even when I try hiding under trees, before eventually going back to their beach, and presumably their young, but not before I have made a complete and utter idiot of myself. I am reduced to looking like a mad woman, running along, arms flailing in the air, yelling at them to go away. It is quite a sight apparently, as my husband discovered when he was driving to work, early one morning. He drove around the hill, into the bay, only to be confronted with me running much faster than usual, with half a dozen seagulls in pursuit, and a look of pure terror on my face. He said he was laughing so much that he nearly crashed the car. The unfortunate part is that I have to run back past them on my way home, there is no alternate route to take. On the upside, my husband now believes me when I tell him that seagulls are trying to kill me!
So the image I have of myself running with grace and athleticism has been crushed by a handful of seagulls. I have come to the realisation that my days of being an athlete are over, I will never be the same runner as I was in my twenties, those days are long gone. However, I will keep plodding on, as much for the calm it brings to my mind as for my fitness, and I will tell you this for nothing, those seagulls will never get the better of me. #Never give up.
The Honest Woman's Guide to Growing Up. 