Usually, the only insects I have issues with on my runs are those clouds of small gnats that appear around here in the summer; other bugs, like mosquitoes and flies are wiped out by the blanket of pesticide that the city regularly lays down. However, this evening on my 3 miler, I was plagued by a rogue fly.
It was a large fucker -- honey brown in color and annoying in spirit. Now, I'm a bit remiss on my fly knowledge, but he was either a horse fly or a deer fly, and he was out for my blood (he knew that since I'm pregnant, I have extra). I swatted at him mercilessly, but he wouldn't let me be. Finally, just when I thought I'd outrun him, he landed on my right cheek; I swatted myself on the face, and either it was the slap of my own palm, or it was the bite of that demon fly, but either way, my cheek felt a sharp sting.
When I got home, I asked Jerry if it looked like I had been bitten, but he said I looked no more odd than usual (I ignore such off-hand insults such as these), and it doesn't sting anymore, so I doubt I actually got bitten. But damn. I am having one hell of a week -- dryer sheets in my shorts, an emergency poop stop, and a renegade fly -- all in the last 3 runs.
Running, are you trying to break up with me? Because I don't go quietly.
In other news, The Runner's Lounge has a new Podcast up and I'm a featured "personality" on this episode. Go check it out and listen to me giggle through two-thirds of our discussion. Trust me. It's worth your time.