the art of spitting and dancing the jigby Lynn Seely Okay. I have to admit it: I was not a good spitter. I just didn't know how. I had tried to learn how to do this right, but I just never managed. Until this morning. Now my husband, he's a good spitter. He can target a spot 10 feet away and by gosh he hits it. Every time. Alas, not I. Not before today. Nope, not even after watching a television episode where the art of spitting was taught in great detail. You know the one I mean, in "Little House on the Prairie," where Mr. Edwards teaches Half-Pint (Laura Ingalls) how to spit, much to the disapproval of her TV mother. I had paid careful attention as I watched that show and thought that the next time (I don't know how to say this delicately) the need to spit came upon me, I would give their method a try. It didn't work. Let's face it, girls are not taught to spit. Certainly no one taught me. Truthfully, I never thought I'd have a need for this skill. I was wrong. Runners sometimes need to spit. Now don't get me wrong. I am not the type of person who goes around spitting all the time! But there are occasions during a run when a person really needs to spit. For me, this morning was one of those times. A tiny gnat flew into my mouth while I was running, and I needed to spit it out. I didn't want to stop or slow down, so I had to spit on the run. I proceeded to gather a mouthful of spit and attempted to expectorate the gnat. What happened is what always happens. My chin got wet and spots of spittle drizzled across my shirt. Once again I felt totally inadequate in the art of spitting. It gets messy, when you need to spit on the move and don't really know how. So, as I ran, I began to give some serious thought to this previously undervalued skill. With several miles still to cover, I had time to give the matter my undivided attention. We all know running is the time when we have our most creative thoughts, and I soon came upon a notion I thought might work. I decided to try out my idea right away. Gathering some more spittle in my mouth, I got ready to put my plan into action. At the very moment I spat, I jumped to the side, and, waving my arms about to keep my balance, I jerked my head backward, all the while continuing to run. It worked! No wet chin, no embarrassing stuff on my shirt, just absolute and complete success as I at last achieved a good spit. A big smile formed on my face. Just at that moment I noticed an old farmer perched on a bale of hay by the side of the road, staring at me. He must have witnessed the entire spectacle. I felt my face turn hotly red, and not from exertion. I still had about 30 feet to go before passing him. Mustering what little dignity I could, I tried to paste a smile back on my face as I approached. "Morning," I said nonchalantly, wishing myself totally invisible. The farmer just nodded in return. As I passed him, I relaxed a little. Maybe he hadn't even seen me spit. I had run a few steps past him when I heard him speak. "I've heard about people dancing the jig," he said, his voice bursting with amusement, "but you're the first one I ever saw do it and spit at the same time." A roar of laughter followed. I could feel the hot flush of embarrassment reddening my face even more. He certainly had seen my antics. What was even worse was that this was the very same farmer who had seen me talking to his cows one morning not so many days ago. Well, not exactly talking. I had actually called out to his cows with a loud "MOO" several times before I saw him standing there listening. Oh well…runners. Yeah, we're different. ___________________ |