First of all, I sadly did not win at racquetball last night. I came close in one game by tying the score 14-14, but then I lost. It kinda sucks to always lose, but to be honest, it doesn't bother me that much; I still like playing.
Secondly, I went for another 3 miler with Norah this morning, and I have two observations to share about that:
For one, passing people with the BOB is awkward. Our sidewalks here in South Florida are only wide enough for two people abreast. But, one person pushing a jogging stroller is the equivalent to a person and a half, so in passing fellow pedestrians, I feel like I'm just barely shaving by them if they remain on the sidewalk. Also, while I do give people verbal warning when I approach them from behind, I still seem to sneak up and surprise a lot of people, so not only am I taking up a lot of room on the sidewalk, but my ninja skillz are also scaring the bejesus out of some.
While passing people is awkward, passing by dead animals is even worse. At least I don't have to yell "On your left!" for that, though.
Yes, that was my clumsy transition into my second observation about today's run: a dead possum. Possum are frequently the victims of roadkill in South Florida, so it's not uncommon to see a smooshed one by the side of the road, but this particular dead possum appears to have just dropped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. I noticed it last Saturday on our run, and this morning, its decaying corpse was still there. But now, of course, it is getting more and more disgusting and the putrefaction while passing it is awful.
I, at least, know that it's coming and can breathe out of my mouth as we pass it, but Norah doesn't understand me when I say, "Oh gross! Norah, plug your nose!" so she has to breathe in that disgusting whiff of rotting animal carcass. I hope this doesn't ingrain itself in some deep-seated part of her baby-brain so that in therapy, 20 years from now, she'll have to un-earth the devastation of having her mom push her past a dead possum.