Oh Hai! . . . Uh, Everybody!

I dislike jogging but I gotta do it. If I'm gonna, I might as well go for it, so at the end of the course I sprint for maybe 1/10 mile until I'm done making any forward progress. Today, that meant taking a two-minute breather on my back, on the sidewalk. I got up, and on my way home I remember thinking it must have been shift-change time at Davesville P.D. The place was lousy with COPs. Then one of them cut around and called me over.

Some "concerned" citizen was so concerned they stopped on their way to where they were going and asked if I was okay called 911. The patrol officers were out looking for me, and I wasn't there. By the time I got through explaining the situation to the chickcop who stopped me, there were two burlydudecops hanging out as well. Three of 'em, for little ol' me! I guess it's better than letting me die on the side of the road.

Here's a Public Service Announcement: If you see somebody you think might have had a heart attack and seconds count, remember: Paramedics/Police/Firemen etc. are only minutes away. For crying out loud, ask if they are in need of assistance, and then render aid if required. So sorry to interrupt your busy commute home so you can see Sports Center or whatever!

It probably cost the city a hundred bucks of man-time between all the Policemen involved responding, searching, and filling out reports. Silly goose, just ask!

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Jogging and me are not friends. When I was getting ready for Basic Training for the Navy as a 17 year-old, my dad marked off a mile-and-a-half course in our neighborhood that ended at sumdood's front yard. It was my habit to finish the jog and flop down and pant for a while; that's how I roll. I told the chickcop she shoulda seen me the first time I went out during this training cycle: I must have been down for 5 or 10 minutes LOL . . . they didn't (or didn't want to show they did) think it was as funny as I did, but oh well. All's well that ends well, and (to paraphrase) any run you can walk away from is a good one.