Hazardous Conditions

With only a few hundred yards to go, I pick up my pace to finish the trail run with some serious huffing and puffing when I see him. Standing near the parking lot is a man in uniform, mirrored sunglasses and hands on his hips. Not wanting to make eye contact, I glance out the side of my sunglasses as I run past and offer a token, but very phony sounding, "Good morning." Thumping music blaring from my earbuds prevent hearing any response as I don't even break stride. 

I knew the trails were closed. A temporary, half-assed sign told me so, but I went around it.  It's not that I felt above the law, it's just that I understood the stupid knee jerk reaction that precipitated the decision and found the closure absurdly preposterous. While stretching at my car, I notice in the paint's reflection that the man in uniform is quickly stomping up behind me. I pop my earbuds out and spin to greet him. His droopy gut jiggles over his duty belt as he assails me for defying his authority.