We pull in to the car park and stop.
Baileys head immediately emerges from behind the rear seats. Our dog is an exceptional traveler in the car. We have only driven a mile today, but in that time he's already settled down, obviously expecting a long journey.
Now, he's up and alert. "Are we here already? Great. Lets go!"
We are not alone. In an effort to get Bailey to pull, we have adopted the help of Sy, a neighbour and a fellow runner.
He has volunteered to not only run ahead of us, and encourage Bailey along, but also to take some photos with his camera phone, which has a burst function, which basically means it will take a burst of photos over about 10 seconds. Probably obvious to you, but he had to explain it to me.
We sit in the warm, comfy car for a few seconds, and I contemplate what I am about to do. I am new to trail running, as well as Canicross. This is only my third or forth run on trail, and one less with Bailey. Still, at least my trail shoes have arrived. These little beauties are gonna get a good test in these conditions, that's for sure!
"Let's do this!" says Sy, leaping out of the car. He is in shorts and a running tee shirt. Apart from a knee support, socks shoes, and I guess underwear, although I'm not inquisitive enough to ask him, that is all.
He is pretty hardcore. He does all these runs with insane names. 'The Brutal'. 'The Hurt'. 'The Knacker Cracker'. The 'Let's run this race with crocodile clips attached to intimate parts of our anatomy, with wires connected to mains power, because this race is just not painful enough already!'
OK, I may have made that last one up. But go check. If it does exist, I know someone who will be VERY interested.
I climb out of the car, and shiver. I am wearing a long sleeved running top, a short sleeved running top over that, a rain jacket over that lot, running tights, and shorts.
And a hat.
And gloves.
And I am definitely wearing underwear.
I gingerly step to the rear of the car and open the boot. A yellow streak leaps out of the car, and nearly throttles himself on the lead I use to attach him to the anchor point in the boot.
It's not the first time. It won't be the last. He does it every time. 'Sit' and 'Stay' are as foreign to him now as they ever were. I try to make him sit before I open the boot, but as soon as I open it wide enough, he leaps out. To make matters worse, he is going through the stage most dogs go through at this age. The few commands he does know, he has conveniently forgotten. Or he's gone deaf. (Please tell me it's not just my dogs that do this!)
"Sit".
Bounce.
"Sit".
Sniffs the ground.
"SIT".
At last. I put his harness on which he readily accepts, and release him from the lead. He immediately heads for the nearest tree.
I take out my belt and line, and attempt to put it on. As usual, Bailey scampers back to 'assist', by playing tug of war with the belt.
*Lesson in Canicross number 647 - In future, put the belt on BEFORE you let Bailey out*.
We hook up, lock the car and head off. At first, Sy and I trot side by side. Bailey trots alongside me in his usual excited, bouncy way.
"I'll run ahead" says Sy.
Immediately Bailey pursues him. He's Pulling!
We quickly get the distance between us about right, so that Bailey is just behind him, and continue.
This is great! Just what we wanted! Bailey is pulling really well.
"Good Boy!"
We decide to head off the main track and explore the woods a little. My confidence quickly grows with the shoes, aided by the fact we are running on relatively fresh snow. I am actually pretty sure footed in these shoes, which considering I normally have the poise and balance of Bambi on roller blades, is a minor miracle.
As we make turns and choose tracks to follow, I shout directions to Bailey. I have decided to go with the standard 'Go left, Go Right, Straight on, Whoa and Wait'. Keeping it simple is as much for my benefit as it is for Bailey. My brain, along with other parts of me have a habit of abandoning me in my hour of need. In an emergency, at least with words and meanings I already know, I hopefully won't get confused, shout the wrong command and end up getting intimately acquainted with the nearest, prickliest foliage we can find.
We continue along the trail until we come to a junction, and pause.
"Wait". Bailey stops, and looks at me expectantly.
To our left, the path opens up into a clearing on a bit of a ridge. A perfect photo opportunity!
"I'll run on ahead" says Sy. Off he trots, closely observed by Bailey. He looks to me and then to Sy.
"What are we waiting for? Come on Dad!"
"Wait Bailey, good boy".
He focuses on Sy, now about 100 yards ahead, where he now stops and gets his phone out.
"Ready?"
"Yep. I'll call him whilst you run towards me".
"Go on Bailey, Go!"
He leaps forward with surprising force, and I have to adjust my pace quite a bit to keep up, but manage to do so. We quickly settle into a reasonable pace. Marvelous. This is what it's all about. We are loving this!
As we near Sy, he continues to call Bailey on. Then he stops calling, to concentrate on getting the photos.
Here are some of the results below-
Impressive, huh! It's going great. It's a glorious day. The scene is picturesque, Bailey is pulling and although we don't know it at the time, we are getting some great shots!
I am not sure of the burst rate of his camera (no, it's not a shot every 3 seconds! We are actually moving at quite a pace here!) All I know is that I am concentrating on Bailey, shouting encouragement at him, and Sy is doing his David Bailey bit, to ensure he get's some great shots.
We both fail to notice what is in hindsight, and blatantly obvious looking at the pictures, what is about to happen.
In my last blog, I described what is was like to take a hit in the 'plums' from Bailey. And I know we are 'treading on old ground' here, in a manner of speaking.
Either way, Sy takes a 30 kilo Labrador to the his soft squidgy bits at about 8 miles an hour.
To be perfectly fair to the guy, he took the hit better than I would have!
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF............................!"
Bailey merely bounces off the obviously cushioned crash zone completely unscathed.
Sy.......is not so lucky.
He doubles over, and develops a severe but brief case of Tourettes syndrome.
Very severe indeed.
Being the good mate I am, I of course show my instant concern.
"Did you get any good photos then? I can go again of you didn't".
This did not go down too well with Sy, who is now whimpering.
"Man down. Man down!" he moans.
"Man down? Man up more like!"
Honestly, he would have done the same for me!
I wisely decide to keep myself a safe distance from him. He has this weird, cross eyed look about him.
And his eyebrows have joined in the middle.
After several minutes, he eventually recovers enough to continue the run.
Albeit, he is now running in a rather odd, wide legged gait.
Coming in the next blog - We have our best run yet! And I learn that revenge is a dish best served cold.......
Footnote - I am aware that both this and my last blogs are rather similar, in as much as the involve Baileys talent of finding very
However, I would probably be lying..............
No comments:
Post a Comment