Entomology Rescue

Today all my core values regarding the sanctity of life were pulled into question.

As I was doing my customary 7 mile run on the monotonous track inside my school's P.E. building (10 laps equals a mile--gets awfully dull) I kept noticing a black spot. A particular, minuscule black spot. Right outside the last track line where it begins its first curve.

I feel obligated to remind all my many (ha) avid readers WHY it was so easy for me to notice a little black spot on the track floor as being out of place and new. You run seventy laps every day except Sunday in the same circle and you'll know every dirt speck around that circle too.

Back to my story . . . Eventually the irritating mystery of the black spot wore so much on my nerves that I actually had to stop to check out what it was. Any guesses?

A beetle stuck on its back.

I felt kinda bad for the poor thing so I tried to flip it right-side-up with my finger but it was waving those nasty legs in the air and I didn't want it latching onto my finger and crawling onto my hand. I'd probably freak out and flick it to tim-buck-two (however that's spelled).

Side note--bug legs look like eyelashes that have been cursed with disgustingness and come alive.

So I run down two flights of stairs off the track and to the girls locker room, grab my ID card from my bag, and run back to the track. Sliding the card oh-so carefully under the beetle-in-distress, I flip him over. Then I say, out loud (no joke), "you're welcome" and go to put my card away.

After running a few more miles I find myself alone on the track . . . that is, until two bratty little girls (12-ish years old) tromp in. Now, other people on my track do not irritate me. Unless they are not running/walking. There is NOTHING ELSE in that bloody room. You don't go there and stand in place. Especially not in my lane. Because then I have to run around you. And that, as my dear David would say, HACKS ME OFF!

Ah, hem. Anyway. Then these girls go over to the little weight shoulder machine (which is broken) near the corner of the track (also where the beetle I rescued was residing), tear the "do not move the equipment" sign off the wall, giggle, and run out.

Seriously, people. Teach your kids some manners. My siblings would NEVER have done that.

Anyway, the thought crosses my mind: what if they stepped on my beetle?? So I rush on over there.

He's on his back again. So I grab my ID card and try to flip him over. But he keeps just rolling around. Then I realize:

He's dead.

Oh.

Then I leave.