The Way of The Pack

The weekend run is often a later one, no pre-dawn darkness to mask our journey. Instead we are out at the same time as many other people, humans with pets and the curious metal wagons and their pasty human cargo. Some of those trapped in the metal cages slow down and get their daily exercise by gawping as they pass the pack in motion.
Other humans are also out exercising, pounding the pavements, gulping the cool damp morning air.
Does the pack feel superiority over these two legged creatures? No, they too share the spirit of the outdoors, the need to cover distance, to feel the elements on their skin, to mark the progression of the season in a daily ritual of sweat, pain and endorphines.
Today we spied two fluorescent rabbits along our route and for a little while we toyed with them. These bipedal rabbits offer us a moment of feral intent, an intent we know we will never fulfil, an intent to catch, pull down and devour in the manner of our lupine cousins. But we move off and pass by, leaving them in blissful ignorance of their unspent gratitude, they run to live, we live to run, it is the way of the pack