Six Miles.

Six miles!
I started out only going to go three and a half but when I got to the crucial corner, I was feeling pretty good and decided to be crazy and not turn towards home, but instead keep going farther and farther away.
And you all were right, I did not die, it really wasn't even that bad.
The worst of it was probably around five miles. There's this stretch of Stead Blvd. that looks like you are running to Texas. It's so long and hot and desserty. Plus, there's these huge semi trucks filling the air with stinky exhaust. Anyway, there's the stop light, way way way up there, so small it looks like tiny Christmas lights, and it's at this point where I told myself, now is not the time to look toward the lights, (because they just seemed forever and a day away and looking at them made me want to stop right then and there and catch the bus) no, I told myself, now is the time to look at your feet, put one in front of the other, and think happy thoughts, like making out with Joey.
And that's what I did and I eventually made it to the stop light, which is were I turned right to go the rest of the way home.
It was on this stretch that I picked up a stray. The way she bounced along with her big foxy tail and her perky ears reminded me of my Border Collie growing up, Rodeo. I had to keep her out of the street, at least. She followed me for a while, would stop to sniff, and then pretty soon I'd hear the titititit of her paws on the concrete sidewalk as she caught up to me. Trying to keep her out of the street was enough to keep my mind off running. Well, that, and imagining how the scene would unfold if a car were to hit her right before my very eyes. With my little encouragements, (Com'on girl, let's go") she followed me all the way home. In fact, by the time I got home, I was using endearing nicknames for her, like BooBoo. I saw she had a collar on, so I thought I'd call her owners as soon as we were home.
Alas, no tag.
Joey about had a cow.
In fact, he almost tuned into a cow, or a bull, with all that steam coming out of his ears.
I told him we were different, that's why this crap happens. He turned around and walked into the bedroom.
She was gone after a couple of hours and thanks be to God (for the sake of my covenant marriage) she did not dig up the grass or poop in some inappropriate place.
My running six miles, my overcoming this horrible fear, just dissipated in all the dog fiasco. I hardly got to stretch for gosh sakes, let alone celebrate.
I feel pretty good today. And with the dog gone, and me and Joey able to laugh and giggle with each other over the whole thing, I think I am on my way. Thirteen and a half miles (or.2, or whatever it is) here I come.