Today I had a near disaster experience. I was so close to disaster that my heart rate is still jacked up about it. I can only thank the running gods, maybe mother nature herself, for sparing me.
It all happened on a trail during a 15 mile run. I was moving well up the single track trail in Coyote Canyon, a few steps ahead of my brother who was on his mountain bike. Just as I stopped to take in the view across Newport Coast Road, I received a call from my GI track. This was not a routine call. This was an emergency call. I quickly grabbed some Charmin from my brothers Camelback and charged for the nearest bush.
As I was crouched down tending to my business, my brother made a wise crack about a rattlesnake biting me in the ass. “Ha ha bro, I know what I’m doing out here, don’t try to scare me with your jokes”, I thought to myself. But his words must have hit home, because just as quickly as the thought of a rattlesnake was moving through my sub conscience, my eyes were surveying the ground around me. All was well until turned to my right…
Holy crap, there’s a bee hive two feet from my bare ass! “Get the hell out of here!”, I remember yelling to my brother. I felt like a ballerina who had just soiled her tutu as I tip toed away while pulling up my shorts. Thank god I had finished with the Charmin.
Today I came very close to disaster. If I had been a mere two feet to my right when I squatted, well, I don’t think I’d be here—sitting—to tell you the story.