Running with a bag of crap


I went for a run yesterday with our dog Phoebe. Almost a mile into it, she took a dump right at an intersection. I had a plastic grocery bag to scoop it up. It was a squishy one, so I couldn’t help but leave about half of it there. Even though I was doing ‘the right thing’, I moved on without the satisfaction of a job well done. It didn’t quite count. I had cleaned the poop ‘in spirit’, but the next day at the busstop some kid might still step in it. Probably some nice little kid is going to go to school and smell like poop and get teased.

So the dog has a new spring in her step. She’s lightened her load, and added to mine. But the load is turning out to be largely a psychic one. Running with a bag of crap really impacts how I feel about myself and what I think about. I start thinking about this Family Guy episode where young Chris Griffen get a zit and names it Doug. Doug the zit starts telling Chris to do delinquent things like leaving a pile of crap on his parapalegic neighbor’s steps and light it on fire. The neighbor opens the door and uses his hands to grab his legs to stamp it out. He realizes what was on fire and says, “oooh doody.” His wife says, “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll be right there to clean you up.” 

I start thinking about the Olympics. Where else to people run with something in their right hand? This ain’t no Olympic torch. Maybe people who ran with that torch around the world had these kind of nightmares the night befoe their big day . And what about the nightmare of the US 4by400m relay team dropping their boton. Maybe if they practiced with a bag of crap they would have learned to be more careful.

   I run by some kids. They are ‘tweeners’ – maybe 11 or 12 years old. They are staring at me. Any age group would be better than a tweener. Adults would have compassion or a quiet chuckle, kids would think it was candy in the bag , and teenagers would just try pathetically to get a laugh out each by running their mouth, so I could feel superior to them. But tweeners are just grossed out and speechless  – until I run by anyways, then they proabably talk about me.

I shut off my ipod. Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” from my wife’s 80’s music list is hitting a little too close to home.  

Ok – I am almost home. I can’t wait to put this bag of crap down and wash my hands. I am going to run another 2 miles WITHOUT the dog and reclaim my dignity.

Dear reader – Next time you get high on your horse, try running with a bag of crap. You’ll never be the same.

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