The Two-Headed Surprise on the Venice Run

A Sunday morning run, with Buena Vista Social Club providing the soundtrack.

The morning of the LA Marathon had a way of making everyone feel like a runner. The sunshine was inviting, the ocean breeze refreshing, and the streets seemed to belong to people who had decided that sitting still was not an option.

I was motivated. I started my run at the Santa Monica Pier, heading south toward Venice Beach. Rather than join the marathon crowds heading west toward the busy streets around the Farmers Market and the La Brea Tar Pits, I chose the ocean route. It was familiar territory, with plenty of room to find my own pace.

As I passed Muscle Beach, the usual Venice spectacle was unfolding. Surfers were riding the waves, competing with the ocean rather than with one another, while Sunday walkers crowded the path. Everyone seemed to have a destination, although nobody appeared to be in much of a hurry.

My own destination was somewhere farther down the beach, but my pace was being determined by the music in my ears.

Buena Vista Social Club was playing on Spotify. Jazz, rumba, and those irresistible Cuban rhythms provided the perfect running soundtrack. My feet followed the music: left, right, left, right. When the tempo picked up, so did I. Occasionally, a faster passage sent me into a brief burst of speed, as if the musicians were personally encouraging me to push harder.

It was a happy, uneventful run. Sunshine, ocean breeze, music, and the familiar rhythm of exercise. What more could one ask for on a Sunday morning?

Then I reached Venice.

In front of the Weird Nature Store, an announcer was attracting the attention of passersby. He was holding a small live snake, inviting people to take a closer look. I slowed down, partly out of curiosity and partly because something about the little creature looked unusual.

It had two heads.

I stopped. Two heads on one snake? That was not something you encountered every day, even in Venice Beach.

To the announcer's right, inside a fish tank, was another unusual resident: a two-headed turtle. I had seen that one before, but the snake was a new attraction.

The announcer, noticing my interest, invited me inside to see the rest of the collection.

I was about to continue when I heard it.

A rattle.

Not the kind of sound produced by a musical instrument in my headphones, but a dry, unmistakable warning. I knew that sound. I had heard it while hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains, where a rattlesnake's warning is something you take seriously.

I turned toward the noise.

There, coiled inside a cage, was a rattlesnake. Its body was tightly rolled, its head raised, looking ready to strike. Its tail vibrated with that familiar warning, as if it had something important to say about my unexpected visit.

The announcer quickly reassured me.

"It's safe. No fang!"

I wasn't entirely convinced that this was the sort of information that should make a runner feel comfortable.

Still, I smiled, thanked him, and decided that I had seen enough wildlife for one morning. There are moments when curiosity should give way to common sense.

I returned to the beach path, put the music back in the foreground, and picked up my pace.

Buena Vista Social Club was still playing. The rhythm had not changed. Left, right, left, right.

I continued running toward Venice, leaving behind the two-headed snake, its two-headed turtle companion, and the rattlesnake that had briefly interrupted my Cuban concert.

The ocean was still sparkling, surfers were still riding the waves, and Sunday walkers were still enjoying their stroll.

It occurred to me that I had set out that morning to get some exercise and enjoy the sunshine. Instead, I had encountered a small traveling natural-history exhibition in the middle of Venice Beach.

The LA Marathon might have been the main attraction that Sunday, but my own marathon had acquired a rather unusual collection of spectators.

And, thankfully, none of them asked me to slow down.

A literary note

The charm of this story is the contrast between three worlds:

• The runner's world: A peaceful, repetitive rhythm set by Cuban music.

• Venice Beach: Its familiar mixture of surfers, walkers, performers, and eccentric attractions.

• The natural world: Creatures that suddenly interrupt an ordinary morning and remind us that nature can be stranger than fiction.

The rattlesnake is the comic climax. The announcer's casual reassurance, "No fang!", is particularly effective because it sounds like a salesman's answer to a rather serious concern.

My suggested subtitle: A Cuban Rhythm, Two Heads, and One Rattlesnake.

I would preserve the conversational first-person voice. The humor comes from the fact that the narrator never intended to have an adventure; he simply wanted to finish his run before the next song ended.