The bull incident
If you refer back to March 2012, when I talked about what animal you're afraid of, you would have come to realize that I am unreasonably terrified of literally all animals. So what happened to me over the weekend did nothing for my nerves, let alone my kneecaps and elbows. If you're in Auckland, you'll remember the weekend of October 11–12, 2014, where there was actual sunshine and clear skies. The weather was so enticing I decided I'd get motivated and head out into mother nature to my regular walking arena, Totara Park. Boy oh boy did I make a mistake. Everything was going well. I had my headphones in, something embarrassing like Massad was playing in my ears, and I was bounding down the road at not quite lightening speed. I came to the paddock I usually walk through to make the most of the largest hill in the area. Usually I double check the cows in the paddock and if there's three or four I'm happy with that and wander on through. This day, I checked as I usually would and to my surprise and delight, there were zero cows in my paddock. Wonderful! I thought. I can wander on through the paddock and not have to worry about keeping an eye on the moos chewing away behind me. However, this moment of bliss was not meant to last.
I powerwalked up the hill and got to about halfway when I thought I should have a look at how far I had to go — usually this is a bad move for my motivation, but this day it was a great move for my life. As I looked up I noticed a bull in my paddock — literally sprung up from nowhere. Not just any bull though. This guy was angry. He was bucking and kicking around, and then it was all on as he galloped his way briskly towards me. So, as the rational and sane person that I am, I turned around and sprinted down the gravel path headed towards the gate that must be nearly 100 metres behind me by now. At some point I was sensible enough to move myself to the grass and then I could feel myself toppling ... and then I fell. Straight down with an absolute thud, landing on my knee mainly, then my elbow, and lastly my nose. I didn't last on the ground too long though. I got myself up, checked my arm, turned to see if I was about to die — and the bull was just chilling at the halfway point at the hill looking at me like I was a moron. So I briskly walked my way to the gate, shut it firmly behind me and shakily walked my way back to a fence where I could sit and watch the crossfit training people while I called my sister to recount the incident. Laughter is what I got. And then there was laughter from my father, and from my mother. There was an element of concern from my boyfriend so at least there was that... but then there was laughter.
So world, I am very grateful to be able to see another day. I, however, no longer want a bull on my future farm and I will be eating a lot more steak over the next few months which I am sure will help me to a full, speedy recovery.