A story my father wrote....

This is an email my dad sent to the family after spending a weekend at our cabin in Vermont. Enjoy!

So, I went for a run...

Or a lumbering trot, stopping to walk every several yards because,

since the knee surgery and weight gain, "that's how I roll." I was

feeling good, as it didn't take me long to get warmed up, and I was

running more than walking, It was going to be a good day.

I remembered that there had been two Rottweillers on the route to

Landgrove road, so I mentally prepared myself to freeze, have the

owner come out and release me. But today there were no dogs, just me

and the trail. How could this get better?

After the first mile, I managed to pick up two deer flies. They

pestered me buzzing and diving, but there were only two, manageable I

thought. Like a typical Vermonter, I have learned to use my hat as a

weapon, at least to keep a few deer flies at bay.

I'm not sure what happened next, as the two deer flies were joined by

several bees. I could tell because the sound was different. I turned

around and saw an entire armada of bees coming at me. So, deer flies

were fine, but I soon found myself sprinting faster than I thought

possible. And, every time I looked back, there seemed to be more

insects, now in a variety of sizes, pursuing me. I really don't know

how I managed to provoke the swarm, I don't remember even seeing a bee

before the altercation and subsequent chase. They must have been

Africanized, because these bees were crazy, relentless, possessed.

So now I'm running as fast as I can, and I've taken my hat off to swat

and run, something between a cartwheel and pirouette. It must have

looked interesting, as an elderly couple in a passing car almost

slowed to a stop, rubbernecking, the woman's nose pressed against the

window to see the show. I was running and thrashing with the hat,

leaping, running and thrashing, until I just ran out of gas. The bees

chased me several hundred yards. They were pissed and in attack mode.

My heart was racing, and the thought occurred to me that, given my

ample size and lack of conditioning, I might be risking a heart attack

if I kept going.

So, I thought, keep running and risk cardiac arrest, or stop and

fight, and risk multiple bee stings. No good options. Shit. I stopped

running, grasped my hat, and said to myself, "come on bitch, let's do

it." The bees were all around me, dive bombing and trying to land, but

I was spinning and thrashing, and pumping my legs, like on Flashdance.

No part of my body was still, or assailable as long as I kept moving.

I managed to kill two bees, and for some reason, I thought the rest

would get the message and retreat. This did not happen.

The fight continued for what seemed two or three minutes, and finally

I killed the last attacker. I counted twelve bees around my feet, and

four deer flies, who had joined the assault when they thought the bees

had the upper hand. I was out of breath, exhausted, but victorious. No

stings, my pride intact.

I did, however, take a different way home.