Of Wasps, Bees, and a Touch of Envy

The other day I decided to do a long run on my favorite running trail along the Potomac River.  It was very hot and humid, as it has been all summer long in Virginia, but I wanted to run six miles (long for me).  I got on my way fairly early and got started.  I had to walk a bit, but, on the whole it was shaping up to be a pretty good run.  I was past the 4 mile point and heading back toward my car.  I was feeling great.  Hot and sweaty, but great.


Until I met the wasp (or maybe it was a bee--it wouldn't be still for an up-close inspection).   At first I thought it was a leaf that had fallen from one of the nearby trees.  I brushed it away.  A few seconds later I saw something out of the corner of my eye.  And then I heard a buzzing.  The bee (or wasp) was focussed on me.  It was flitting about around my head.  Sometimes it would land on my hair.  Other times it would dive right by my face without landing.  I kept trying to swat it away, but it kept on coming.  It was circling my head.  I could see it in the sun shadows on the path.  I didn't think I was going to get stung, but who knows.   The irritation factor of the stinging insect, along with the constant buzz  and attacks on my head made things miserable.  I decided to sprint to try to lose it.  No luck.  My fastest pace for about 100 feet did not lose my new-found running partner.  I wondered if it would leave me when I left its territory.  Do bees/wasps have territories?  We'd gone about a mile down the path together.   I was seriously considering jogging up to the parkway and flagging down a passing car to try to beg a bug-free ride back to my car.  Then I noticed another runner coming toward us.

She was young and beautiful. A vision of loveliness.  Long blond hair. Wonderfully slim  (I always notice). She was attired all in spring-green--sport bra and the briefest of silken running shorts.  She sported a tiny golden ring in her navel.  She looked athletic, cool, calm, and collected.  I felt hot, miserable, sweaty, tired, and bug-ridden.   As she approached, I noticed a lovely cloud of spring blossom scent that travelled with her. I was envious.  I wanted to be her.  For about half a minute. Then I noticed that my buggy companion had apparently deserted me,  preferring her cool, calm, collected and flower-scented presence to my own.

Moral of the story:   Don't wear perfume on a run.