I'd been looking forward to tonight's run with mounting eagerness as today progressed. The reasons were two fold: because today was a little bit pressured and I needed to shake that stress - I find running is great for this. And also, because today was such a beautiful day; it'll not be long before I'll be running in darkness, so glorious evenings such as tonight's are to be treasured. Tonight I was looking forward to shaking off the day and feeling the warmth of the sun on my back.
Despite not getting out of work until well after I would've ideally liked to have, I cycled home with my sights set on my run. And so, setting off, there was a spring in my step and a big grin on my face. Did I need this or did I need this? I needed this. There was a soft warm breeze and all of the Bay was bathed in a beautiful warm light. This run was bliss and I could really feel the heat of the sun on my arms and legs and back. It felt like a taste of the Summer we never had. Then it hit me...
Like a fizzing electrical field that sprang from nowhere, it hit me; this wall of irritation enveloped me, shrouding me as I coughed and blinked and spluttered along. My running route never takes me far from water; I'm either crossing the Taff or closely following its course. Awoken from their autumnal torpor by this glorious weather, these swarming gnats had mistakenly thought that Spring had arrived.
They were in my hair, on my arms, stuck in the hair on my legs and in my eyes and mouth; they were everywhere. Obviously, their emergence was related to the weather in some way but did they really think Spring had arrived? This I pondered on as I continued on my run, brushing insects from my hair and trying to remove those that had dive bombed into my eyeballs as I continued to run.
Luckily, this happened toward the end of my run. I was glad to get home and, whilst my dinner cooked, I jumped in the shower to rid myself of these kamikaze arthropods. That was about an hour ago and I'm still itching, despite having scrubbed their carcasses from my skin and hair and eyes.
Were they mistaken; tricked by a little Autumn sunshine into thinking it was time to get up - similar to my reaction when my alarm goes off by accident on a Saturday morning? As they dive bombed into my eyes, what suicidal thoughts did they harbour? In fact, do they think at all or is their activity today the result of a chemical reaction set in motion by the application of some heat? What level of consciousness do these insects possess?
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
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