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|Subject: ||RE: Wildest Training Run Encounter|
OK this story may not be 100% directly applicable, as I wasn't running, but I was wishing I was running.
I broke my foot playing ballhockey a couple of years ago. During my convalescence, I visited my brother, who lives in Michigan. During the visit, I stayed with my folks who have a large motor home.
I needed to get a workout, so I borrowed my dad's bike. Unfortunately, it had a wonky seat and busted pedal, so I wound up stuck with my mom's bike. Maybe you had to be there to get the whole picture, but it was a girl's bike (low cross bar), older style, beat up, big fat seat, with a pink plastic basket on the front.
I know it looked pretty lame, but I REALLY needed a workout, so I went out for a few hilly miles on the back country dirt roads. As I was riding, for some unknown reason "duelling banjos" was playing in the back of my mind, and I'll be damned if I didn't pass a couple of fully-camouflaged deerhunters walking along the fenceline, bows and arrows at the ready.
I'm not the worrying sort, but I'll admit that my heart began pumping at an uncharacteristically fast rate as I passed these two fine gentlemen on my way back to the camper.
Not proud of it, but this is a true story.
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