To Mia

My mom FINALLY said we could get a dog.  After being screened by big adoption agencies that made us feel like we weren't good enough for the dogs they were trying to place, we decided to go to the local shelter that sat off the highway.  It would be our luck that on the day we went, there was one lonely dog in the kennel - the rest, the guy behind the desk told us, had been taken to an adoption fair in the town over.  They'd be back, he assured us, but of course, only the ones that hadn't gotten adopted would be left.

One dog came back.  She was a puppy, with paws that definitely had room to grow in to.  Her kennel-given name was Megan and she looked like a Siberian husky who had been rolled in Moab-red dirt a few times over.  She was perfect. 

Thirteen years later and on a Wednesday, my mom called to tell me that our Mia had died in the backyard sun, just beyond the door to my parent's bedroom.  It was at this door that she had always waited in the morning darkness for my dad so they could go on their daily run.  Those two were true buddies.  It could be said that you never know someone until you run in winter mornings along frozen trails that line dead corn fields.  These two had. 

Mia was a runner from the beginning.  In the cool evening between summer and fall on the day we brought her home, we took her up to the high school track and let her loose.  Part Siberian husky, part red heeler, she moved in a manner that would make Shalane Flanagan jealous.  Her love of it was contagious - soon we were all running around the track.  Were we chasing her or was she chasing us?  In the fall, she traveled with us to my middle school cross country meets, lolling around in her hot pink collar and matching leash.  She was the cutest.

She grew, we grew.  We moved, made new friends and started new jobs.  The line is familiar and the next one will be too.  She was loyal as any dog is expected to be. 

But her love for running never, ever, ever decreased.  As my mom cried in the background that Wednesday night, my dad reminisced on the memory of 13-mile-Saturdays, with Mia by his side. She was running half-marathons before I ever finished a 10k.  Tears dripped down my face onto my comforter as we laughed about how dad always brought water for himself, but never thought to bring any for Mia; she never complained.

She never made a peep, either, when the vet found tumors in her.  Not just one tumor.  But the next one.  And the one after that.  And those that continued to grow, those that my parents decided not to go after because they had had enough.  Mia had had enough.

Lucky for me, I never saw her as a dog I wouldn't want to remember.  I didn't have to see her splayed legs when she tried to get up to greet you as you walked out the back door.  I didn't have to see the huge chunk of her hindquarter gone as the one last attempt to give her more time.  I get to remember the hot pink collar.  And the long walks.  The way her hair used to come out in chunks in the summer because she had so much of it to shed; we used to say we should knit all of her hair into a sweater.  I get to remember what an amazing runner she was - a true running partner.

Running is Perfect

"A true runner is a very fortunate person.  He has found something in him that is just perfect."
-George Sheehan

Could that gaze be any more intent? He must be seeing baby sheep that he can herd.

(Photo from The New Sixty.)

Could those ears be any floppier?  Thank goodness they add to his super adorableness!

(Photo from Kevin & Amanda's blog)

What's better than one puppy running? Three getting ready to attack you in furry goodness!

(Photo from English Teacher Geek)

What's better than three puppies?  A basket-full of the spottiest Dalmatian pups! Have I mentioned that I'm a HUGE "101 Dalmatians" fan?

(Photo from dogvideofun)

And then there's this guy. Yeah, he's a good runner, but I love it when he cuddles with me.  Sure, go ahead, buddy...melt my heart...see if I care!

A Helping Paw

Just a quick post ... had to show the world this cutie.

He's trying to help me roll out on the foam roller.  Clearly.

A minute before, he was jumping on me, over me and snuggling under me.  Anytime I'm down on the floor, Austin thinks it's time to play.  Sometimes it is, but this time I just wanted to roll out those sore calves!

What I Learned from My Pup

I took Austin out this morning for a quick run.  Here are some running lessons I learned while jogging with him:

• He instinctively knows when we are doing an out-and-back run.  As the smart athlete that he is, he runs slower on the out part and faster on the back part.  I think it's part of a runner's DNA that when you finally turn that corner to head home, your pace picks up just a little bit...you can almost taste the end of the run at that point.  If you feel like letting lose and pumping your arms a bit faster, by all means, do it!

• Always take time to smell the grass. And the trashcan. And the stoplight. Ok, don't do that. But take a cue from dogs and don't be afraid to stop if you see something that interests you. Or slow down to take in the scenery.  Running is about enjoying what you are doing, so don't blow by things so fast. 

• If there's a puddle, always run through it.  Or if there's a sprinkler on, don't veer around it.  Puppies aren't afraid of getting a little wet & dirty - you shouldn't be either. 

• Dog's paws can withstand a whole heck of a lot of wear and tear.  If they can run barefoot, we should be able to as well, right?  Their mechanics allow them to run smoothly and efficiently.  We should definitely take a page out of their book. 

• If your tongue hangs out while running, let it hang out!  If you have a weird way of holding your right arm or a shorter stride than others, don't be ashamed of it.  I am a true believer in my body and what it can and cannot do.  If it says that I should run a certain way, then I should.  If my right hand is better in a fist than an open hand, then by all means, that's what I'm going to do. 

• Nothing feels better than a quick roll in the grass after a run.  Austin likes to stretch out and scratch his back along the turf.  In my case, I'd trade the grass for a nice, long shower.  Cold water to shock the body and cool off and then warm water to envelop it in goodness.   

• Head right to the water bowl after a long run and if your beard gets a little drippy in the process and the kitchen floor is a little wet, all the better.  Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. (And go barefoot in the kitchen so your socks don't get wet from the water spilled on the floor by Austin).

Like I said in a previous post, there is just something fun & rewarding about running with a dog and having a buddy to share the joys of running with.

P.S. If you don't feel like getting out of bed (like Austin in this picture), that's what rest days were invented for. :)