Running of the Ravens?

“Daaaad!” my son yelled as he looked out our apartment window. “Come quick! Quick! There’s a frothing madwoman outside our apartment!”

“Not to worry, son,” my husband said after he peeked out the window. “That’s not a frothing madwoman. That’s just your mother. She started a running regimen today.”

Yes, I’ve started running. And, believe me, it isn’t pretty. And, it certainly isn’t as easy as I thought.

“It is easy,” a running friend assured me. “It’s all in the breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Find your rhythm. Find your pattern. And, before you know it, you will love running and we can be running buddies.”

So, for this morning’s run in the city, I decided to give my friend’s technique a try:
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The-city-is-so-beautiful-in.
What-a-great-way-to-start-the-day-out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
This-is-easy-in. Yuck! A bug in my mouth! Gag-out.
I-definitely-need-a-running-buddy in.
Maybe-she’d-know-the-closest Starbucks-out.
Or-the-closest-Krispy Kreme-in. Yummy-donuts-out.
What-are-all-those-crows-waiting for-in?
Pick-up-the-pace-NOW-out!

Oh, the crows. The crows. When we first moved to Tokyo, I did not care for the crows at all. It seemed that every time I made progress towards my PH.D in the P.E.T., not to mention a concentration in combustibles, incombustibles, glass and bottle sorting, the hungry crows were always lurking. These large winged, steely-eyed bullies were always waiting and anticipating a weakness to my commitment to trash. So far, our bags have been spared, but my neighbor’s trash has frequently fallen prey.

But, now, well, I can see the crows in a new light.

“What did you say?” I asked my husband when I returned from a morning run.
“That was your record time,” he repeated. “Did the breathing technique work?”

I shook my head no.

“Well,” he said. “What was it? What made you run so fast today?”

“The crows,” I said. “They…must…have…thought…I …was…on…my…last…breath,” I explained between huffs. “More and more ravenous ravens circled around me. I didn’t want to slow down.”

Spain has running of the bulls. In Tokyo, it's running of the ravens.

“Daaad!” my son yelled the next morning. “Come quick! There are strange, scary creatures outside the apartment window!”

“Don’t worry, son,” my husband said reassuringly as he peeked out the window. “Those aren’t strange creatures. Those are crows and, apparently, they are now your mother’s new running buddies.”

Actually, you know what, on second thought, maybe I got just a bit carried away with the crows. Starting tomorrow, I think I’ll try indoor swimming.