Since beginning to train for this Buenos Aires Marathon, I´ve been experimenting with running at different times of day, examining the advantages and disadvantages of each, and trying to find the perfect hour. Factors to consider are: sunlight , warmth, wind, dogs and traffic. The sun comes up at around 7 and sets at around 6:15 right now. Although morning would be my ideal time to run since I could get it out of the way and there would be no risk of it being pushed out of my schedule by something that ¨just comes up¨ in the afternoon, it is FREEZING in the morning. It is winter, after all. Once the sun is up for a bit, everything warms up, making noon the next most ideal time. Remember that the wind picks up in the valley in the early afternoon every day, severely dropping the temperature and making it rather unpleasant to run. (Imagine running uphill against a strong wind.) Dogs. The dogs are kind of a wildcard. Unpredictable. Sometimes nice and sometimes mean. Sometimes they just lay there and watch you jog by, and other times they ferociously chase after you. Good rules of thumb are: Carry a good throwing rock, and stay on your toes. What else? Oh yeah. Traffic. When running in the morning or afternoon, one runs the risk of being passed by multiple trucks full of men on their way to or from work. These men will shout things and whistle. However, they are harmless and more of an annoyance than anything. Considering all these factors, noon seems like the best time to run. Sunny, warm, not windy, no men.

I gave the noon hour a try last week, and I couldn´t have been happier with the results. The weather was beautiful, and I didn´t get barked or honked at once. Not once. So I excitedly told Winston (who is now also training for the marathon) the next morning of my discovery. ¨Winston! I found the perfect time of day to go running! Noon! Everyone´s eating lunch, it´s warm out, and apparently all the dogs are lazy. I didn´t get barked at once!¨

Jinx.

The next day I tried the noon hour again. Everything started out fine. It was actually hot out, so that was kind of uncomfortable but still much better than freezing. I waved to my usual spectators, admired the beautiful scenery, and was generally enjoying myself until about 15 minutes in. At that point, a big, ferocious, black dog pounced at me, startling me over to the other side of the road. I raised my rock in defense (Sometimes you just have to fake like you´re going to throw it, and the dog will back off.) but it did no good. He just kept chasing me. When he was a few feet away and I was seriously scared, I let my rock fly.... and missed. So I gave in and stopped my slow, non-threatening jog. He kept barking and snarling but stopped advancing long enough for me to pick up another rock and fake throw it again. Once I was a safe distance away, I resumed running. Things quieted down for another 5 minutes until another dog began barking. By this time I had wisened up, so I began walking immediately upon seeing the dog, and he let me pass without a chase. However, his barking aroused the two dogs at the next house. When I saw them, I thought, ¨Screw this,¨ and just turned around and began my journey home, again walking past the last dog.

Thankfully, the scary black dog did not make another appearance, and I was able to calm down and get my heart rate back down to its normal jogging tempo. The rest of the run seemed to be going fine, and I found myself at the top of my biggest hill, looking down on the nice, easy last leg of the route. The road at this point is cut into a larger hill and has high walls of eroding dirt on either side. A boy about halfway down the hill in front of me was throwing rocks up towards one of the walls. ¨Interesting,¨ I thought. ¨Maybe he´s throwing them at some unfortunate, unsuspecting buddy on top of the hill.¨ He kept throwing. When I was about ten meters from the boy, he suddenly took off running, glancing up over his shoulder every so often. ¨He must have hit whoever he was aiming for, and now they´re coming to kick his a#%,¨ I thought. Then I looked up and saw the pissed off guy. And by ¨guy¨ I mean ¨about a thousand guys,¨ and by ¨guys¨ I really mean ¨angry bees.¨ They arose in a cloud from a hole in the eroding wall and just hovered there for a second, surveying the scene and trying to find the culprit. Since the real culprit had taken off down the hill a few seconds ago, who do you think became the next most likely bad guy as she calmly, slowly, and non-threateningly jogged by?

¨Oh sh#%!¨

As I sprinted past the stupid boy with a swarm of angry bees on my tail, I shouted a, ¨Gracias, amigo!¨ I hope he sensed my sarcasm, but he might have been too STUPID to get it.

I approached the bridge that crossed the river and remembered things I had heard/read/seen where people getting chased by swarms of angry bees have plunged into bodies of water to evade their pursuers. Apparently bees can´t swim. Sadly, neither can I in the six inch depth of my little river. So I kept up my sprint.

By halfway across the bridge I could hear only one bee behind me. I swatted at him as he divebombed my head. I tried evasive maneuvering, zigzagging across the bridge. I must have looked like an idiot. He just wouldn´t leave me alone. I resigned myself to getting stung. ¨There´s nothing you can do about it, Sarah. Just accept it. The persistent little jerk is going to sting you, and then the jerk is going to die.¨ (Replace ¨jerk¨ with a much more powerful word, and answer me this: Do bees know they´re going to die when they sting someone?) Then with one final, well-placed swat, he disappeared.

I did it! I outran a swarm of bees without getting stung once! I walked the rest of the way home, very on-edge. Every large, flying insect made my heart race. The vaguely buzz-like sound of the velcro of my knee brace rubbing against my pant leg scared the crap out of me. But I made it home, safe and sound.

In conclusion, I can´t be too harsh on the stupid boy after just ranting about how kids should be allowed to do dangerous things. He lives in the country. He´s on winter vacation. He was probably bored. And at least now I know where the bees live... and that there is no good time of day to go running.