I didn't really want to run today.
But I'm trying to get my miles in despite all of my time training trapeze right now -- it's up in the air as to whether I'm really doing a half marathon in early February, but if I am I need to get miles in the bank.
Which is all beside the point.
It was a beautiful day for a run. Perfect weather, late afternoon slanted sunlight. And I was still feeling cantankerous when I headed out the door.
Only a minute or two into my run, I stopped.
Because trotting across the open field in the park was a coyote.
I know that there are coyotes in the park. There are warning signs and I've seen photos.
And I've always hoped to see one. I like predators.
Nonchalant, she stopped, watched me. Circled cautiously, crossing the path about 10 feet from me. We were both just watching each other. Casual, but very aware.
She sauntered a little off the path, and I started moving again, but slowly, watching her agile form.
And as I watched, she lifted one edge of her upper lip into a snarl -- aimed not at me, but at the two large poodles coming down the path behind me.
It felt like a gift. a little moment.
The rest of my run didn't measure up to the beginning. But what does that matter?