Staying true to our innocent and good intentioned New Year’s resolution after months of beer and bread in Europe, we decided to go for an invigorating, boiling-hot run along the scenic road to Arenal beach, in Pedasi.
After ten minutes of procrastinating with slow shoe tying and “stretching” the run was better than I thought it would be. It was actually fun to run along the gorgeous fields and under the shady trees which look straight out of “The Lion King” (wrong continent, I know, but it’s true) and cow pastures. Locals stare at us and we got a few obnoxious whistles, hisses and “hola reinas” in honor of Carnival, I suppose, but cat-calls are like breathing for men here. If I were Rosie O’Donnell running in shorts I’m sure I would get the same harassment and objectification.
Anyhow, we are mid-run, dodging hisses and whistles and dreaming of jumping into the sea water when up ahead I see a large cow, alone on the side of the road. It is about a quarter of a mile away, but it has already seen us and has decided to make eye contact. Cailey wasn’t wearing her glasses, so I say “Cow.”
Cailey stops dead in her tracks, and says in a firm clear voice that we should turn around (she has been to a bull fight). I wonder out loud if cows are actually dangerous or friendly. They let us milk them, right? They have names like Bessie and Annie and Betsy, right? Then I see its horns. Then it starts to haul towards us. And this thing can move. We let out yelps and start to run back along the road where we came from. I don’t even dare to look behind me, but I can’t hear any cow hooves, (I don’t even know what cow hooves sound like anyway!) and I feel like Billy Crystal in “City Slickers” but this isn’t funny. Cailey and I run for our lives, sweating, burning calories and thinking of the people that we love in this world. Our mother’s faces, our father’s, our sister’s, our boyfriend’s faces flash before my eyes. I wonder what they will do with my body mauled by Panamanian cow horns.
Cailey finally looks behind her, because if she were at Hogwarts the sorting hat would have placed her in Gryffindor, whereas I would have been in something lame like Huffelpuff. She says, “Stop! Look!” and behind us, a mile away the cow, just chilling. We stand in the road, panting, grateful for our lives. I reason that he saw our slighting quick speed and decided to give up on us and turned around. Or it may have been a mirage. Don’t run in the heat.

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Filed under: Country Guide on February 2nd, 2008