Walking good.

Bears bad. I’ve taken to brisk after dinner walks since the most welcomed arrival of spring and fair weather. I’ve tried to be purposeful in my movements, taking the long way around and surmounting the hills instead of keeping to level ground. My calves thank me, as does my posterior. My solitary strolls provide me time for reflection, talking aloud to myself, and breathing the sweet fresh air. Another moment for myself. And the bears. This time last year my pursuit of fitness was prematurely halted by a mama bear and her alarmingly adorable cubs. I happened upon the captivating creatures not 500 feet from my driveway. Having the Papoose strapped to my body in a snuggli caused every hair follicle on my body to stand stiff even more so. I assume we went unnoticed by the bumbling bears but that didn’t make the experience any less threatening. Unfortunately I came upon another mama bear and what appeared to be two newborn cubs not two days ago. I wonder if she’s the same mama, living the same life, in the same woodland neighborhood as me. I’d like to think I’m sharing my little of piece of earth with only one bear. ::shudder:: Last year I fell into a state of terror after my brief bear encounter and I hounded every park ranger in the phone book. I pleaded with them to remove and relocate the bear to a more suitable site. Like not near me. I repeatedly probed the rangers about the nature of bears and the likelihood of an attack. I was freaked, probably from watching too many “When Animals Attack” programs on National Geographic channel. Each park ranger repetitively informed me that an attack by a black bear was truly improbable and that I should simply enjoy the uncommon sighting of a black bear. Okay, right after I finish soiling myself, I’ll sit back and enjoy nature’s ephemeral exquisiteness. Um, no. I can’t help be anything but petrified the moment I realize I’m within yards of a potentially overprotective mama bear while still half a mile from the safekeeping of my big house.

Presently I find myself in the same emotional pickle I was in 12 months ago. The rationally formed half of my brain accepts the unlikelihood of suffering a bear attack while the more prevailing section of my grey matter tends to scream horror when I consider a twilight wander.

Factor to bear in mind (pun intended) when buying a new home? Must be within walking distance of a public bike path and surrounded by minimal woods.

Think I’d look noticeably wary walking with a baseball bat strapped to my belt loop? In my continual quest for a firmer figure, I just might make use of that old wooden Rawlings in the garage.