Being a superhero ain’t easy. I can say this with some degree of confidence.

First, there’s the whole decision to become a superhero. The long hours, always being on call. Crime never sleeps, blah blah blah.

Once the decision is made, you have to get the superhero body, and apparently even old dudes are pretty ripped. This part takes the longest so getting started early is recommended.

Then, there are the duds. Unfortunately unlike people, not all long underwear are created equal. Apparently most or made for fat men with short torsos, no wrists, and long pinkies. Also, if you get the wrong stuff, your girlfriend with high standards will just laugh at you and say things like, “that’s the scariest looking mask i’ve ever seen.” Luckily, there are ways around that when you live in a city. Namely, go straight to the rental store. And when you go to the rental store, go there in a car. It doesn’t help your secret identity or your self image when you’re waiting at a muni stop with your garb in a dry cleaning bag.

Next, there’s pleasing the public. There are all sorts of aspects to this one. The public is a strange beast. Sometimes they run away from you. Sometimes they embrace you. Sometimes they ask you to do crazy things like crawl up the side of a wall. Mostly, though, they want to go hang out with cinderella. And, y’know, you just have to do the best you can. Saddle up and say, “hi, im’ really friendly. there’s no need to be scared. I’m a superhero.” Or, “You know, i only do that wall crawling thing when there are bad guys around.”

Finally, you have to look good when people are trying to take pictures of you. This might be the hardest part of the entire job. I mean, it’s like you need to be aware of every body position you make because the last thing you want is to be caught on camera slouching. That would just totally ruin your superhero street cred.

But, in the end it’s worth it. You put the effort in (no drinking, see superhero body above), make the sacrifices (hey, pride, get back here this instant!), and make sure you come through for people that matter.

So, it’s not really a big secret that I have no love for birds. In fact, the only good bird is the dead bird i’m having for dinner. Today, my hate for avian creatures has grown just a little more. actually, hate is a strong word. Let’s say dislike.

Anyway, I’m on my normal run out in the sewage dump that is the Y! backyard. Midway between mile 2 and 3 I come upon a gaggle of geese. No big deal. They’re usually hanging around on that back stretch anyway. In fact, most of them kindly waddle out of my way. Sometimes they hiss, and i make sure i slow down and get on the far side of the trail to get by them.

But today, today would be different.

I’m running past this one bird who’s back is to me, and just as i pass by it flips around and hisses at me. No big deal, i’m already past the thing, so i keep running. Stupid bird. in five seconds it won’t even remember i passed by.

Well, maybe not. Before I take my next step, i hear another hiss directly in my ear. I turn my head and the damn bird is running at me hissing and squaking away. At this point, i’m thinking its nest is somewhere nearby, so i better try to scare it off. I throw my hands up and play like a big bad . . . human.

No effect.

Instead, it begins to take flight. Hmmm . .. not what i had in mind. I start yelling. I give it my angry yell. well, at least I try to give it my angry yell. It’s funny how angry yell while running sounds more like crazy, scared yell. It must be the doppler effect or something.

At this point, it occurs to me how stupid this all looks. I’m booking it so this bird won’t catch up to me, my arms and hands are waving in the air, and i’m yelling like a crazy-angry-scared person. Oh, and let’s not forget the goose flying after my ass.

The goose, by the way, is pissed. Probably thinking I’m mocking it. I’m sure it was insulted somehow.

I’m wondering how long i can continue in this manner. The goose is within an arm length. I figure i could keep this up for a mile, but that’s probably not desirable from an energy expenditure standpoint and, well, y’know, my pride is telling me i can’t be bullied by a damn goose. i begin to explore alternatives.

I turn my head to face forward and suddenly my mile gets a lot shorter. gaggle of geese, jason. gaggle, as in plural, gaggle as in two geese at twelve o’clock ten meters up. damn. The last thing i need is geese gang violence.
Well, so much for peaceful resolutions. In fact, aren’t we already past peaceful resolutions? I mean, i am being chased by a goose whose sole goal is probably to pull a reggie evans on me. Speaking of which: wtf is up with that? I mean ron-ron gives a little elbow and gets suspended. Reggie Evans purposely grabs a man’s testicles and only gets a flagrant 2? where’s the justice?

Whatever. getting back to the story, it’s about this time i begin to ponder how much force it would take to render a goose unconscious. I’m funny. I know. But, hey, I mean, i wouldn’t want to kill the damn thing cause, y’know, it has some little chickies on the way, but i need to get this damn bird off my ass quick before it turns into a three on one, man vs. gaggle.

After a split second, I decide I have no basis for judgement on how much blunt trauma to use and figure i’d just clock the damn thing and see what happens. I mean, it’s in the air just hovering there. I’m imaging either goose cartwheels with feathers flying all over the place or me whiffing badly and getting my cap peeled. Either way, something spectacular is about to happen.

I bring the arms back in, clench the fists. ready? three, two, one, and pou- . . . at that moment the goose settles down and waddles away. The geese ahead of me part to let me through, and all is well. No flying feathers or cartwheeling geese and i still have my testicles. damn straight. I bet that goose could feel my chi gathering to deliver it a deadly, five star blow. damn straight.
I guess the moral of the story is: any run is a good run if you come back with both of your testicles. damn straight.