I kicked a frog yesterday morning.
I think it was a shock to both of us.
I honestly wasn’t expecting him to land on my foot mid-trot and kick him off. Or do a squeamish dance in the middle of the running path.
OR repeat that exact same thing 30 seconds later. Ugh!!
Oh my lord. And with every step I took after that, it was frogs a plenty and I feel like I danced and twirled all through my run. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been that bad but I was aiming for more hardcore stamina as opposed to Dancey McDanceathon. At 5:50 am.
And so this morning, I had the Plague of frogs on my mind when I headed off this early a.m. to get my run on. Ever since my Friday 5k, I am loving hitting the pavement. LOVE IT. As in, might divorce Edward and have a handfasting ceremony with the pavement in front of my house, wherein I start my running.
Anyways, this morning there were no frogs. There were also no birds, ducks, dogs, deer or spider webs (that I always seem to run through with my mouth open. Ick.)
Compared to the virtual rain of frogs from yesterday, the complete dearth of frogs this morning was oppositely bizarre.
I cannot help but think that this week is waxing and waning in terms of the number of frogs I have seen. And tomorrow I am anticipating to see none. Since I am not going running at all.
Hm. Did I disappoint you?
Mummy needs a rest, especially since I literally had a breakdown when I got home this evening and was banished to a hot tub relaxathon with a glass of wine by my husband. With strict instructions to not come out.
Best banishment ever.
Love you Edward…
(Love you frogs too….)