Bailey and I have been running 4 times a week pretty much every week, and Sunday just gone, we managed our first 10k together. I managed to capture some of this on video, with my newly bought video camera.
Well actually, most of the footage is of Sy's butt. Sy is our running buddy. He was running ahead of us, to encourage Bailey to pull. My new camera has a 170 degree angle of view, and he managed to fill 168 of those degrees with his hairy bike park.
To repay the compliment, I'm considering selling the footage to a dubious looking website I've inadvertently stumbled across whilst innocently searching to see if Free Willy was a Disney film for a fancy dress party. (Another story entirely that one!)
Anyway, enough of that kind of talk. I digress.
Our mate Sy has been accompanying us on most of our runs. And he's been enjoying the attentions of Bailey, an 18 month old adolescent Labrador, who despite having been separated from his boy bits a while ago due to them not dropping properly, still likes to go through the motions.
Particularly with Sy's legs.
I really don't know what it is about Sy's legs. I reckon he rubs a big juicy steak into them before we go out, in an attempt to attract his attention. Bailey shows no interest in anyone else's legs. He's even learnt that when Freddie says no, he really means it. But the sight of Sy's short, fat hairy ones, and it's like Bailey is riding the Royal Ascot winner.
There I go again! Oi! Get back on topic!
Yes, I know I said hilly twice, but when I couldn't even run over a speed bump before, without having to stop to catch my breath, you'll have some idea of where I am coming from. If I ever bother to post the video footage of last Sundays run over there, you will be subject to the noises of me sounding like 2 asthmatic whales getting it on.
One of the delights of this little run that we do is affectionately called The Big Dipper. It goes straight down and straight up. There is no leveling off at all. In the transition between down and up, a force of about 4g is exerted on my head, and my neck disappears into the top of my body. I briefly look like the honey monster, only less cute.
Near the bottom of this hill, it gets pretty muddy. It's the kind of mud that is reluctant to let go of your foot once it has a good grip on it. The first time I ran it, one of my feet disappeared to above my ankle in mud.
At least mud provided a soft landing.
Now Bailey likes to get a bit of a lick on going down hills at the best of times. And
"Come on Bailey, good boy".
In no time at all, we have reached terminal velocity. Warp 8.
OK, 3 miles an hour. Either way, it's a little faster than my legs are comfortable with.
Now I must have the most forgetful dog in the world I reckon. Or the most selectively deaf at least. Bailey, the dog that can hear a packet of sausages being opened in a 3 counties away, suddenly can't hear my screams of "EEEEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" from 2 metres behind him. This is our chosen command for him to slow down when needed. And we have practiced this whilst walking him on a lead.
My dog chooses to ignore me, and instead follow 'Hugh Janus' there in front of us.
Sy, all credit to him hears the panic in my voice and reacts.
By grabbing a stick, waving it in front of Bailey, shouts "Come on Bailey" even more excitedly than earlier and picks up the pace.
I am a picture of arms, legs, mud sweat and profanity flying in all directions.
Somehow, I have so far managed to stay on my feet every time he's done this. It really is only a matter of time though.
Right near the end of our run, is a steep downhill section of proper, hard path. It is quite narrow, with a wall on one side and trees on the other. It starts fairly steep, and gets progressively steeper as we near the bottom. At the bottom of the hill, the path becomes a mud trail, that turns sharp right, to avoid the lake at the bottom of the hill.
As we start to descend the hill, Sy again starts to encourage Bailey to speed up. And Bailey, being only to eager to please, obediently obliges, and ups the pace.
I am always amazed at how quickly one can get to that speed in canicross, where I am no longer in control, and that good old force we call momentum is having a bit of a giggle at my expense.
As we pass the speed at which I've handed control to Mr Isaac Newton Esq, several things happen in my head, all at once.
I forget my command for Bailey to slow down. My mouth is opening and shutting like a goldfish hyper ventilating, but the only sound that is coming out is "AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"
My life flashes before my eyes.
I make a mental note to do some very serious damage to Sy which will mean he will never have to worry about contraception again.
I check my watch to see what speed we are doing.
Yeah, about that last one............
My brain has gone into overload at this point, and called a time out.
It wants to change the subject. And distracts itself by insisting on knowing what speed we were going at the time of death.
We were doing a 6:41 current average at that point, if you are interested.
I honestly didn't know my watch could record such speeds.
I plead with my brain to get back to more pressing matters. It however, has other ideas.
That steak that Sy rubbed on his legs earlier to attract Baileys attention. What if he's still got it in his pocket?
A weird picture begins to emerge in my head, as my brain buries it's head deeper in the proverbial sand to avoid dealing with the current situation . As we reach the bottom of the hill, I imagine Sy suddenly producing said steak, and as he turns the corner, launches it into the lake.
"Fetch Bailey".
Bailey is an awesome swimmer at the best of times. He is also the worlds most hungry dog. I imagine the look of wonder on peoples faces at the sight of 'Thorpedo' Bailey swimming flat out across the lake in an attempt to catch the steak before it hits the water, with me, the bald screaming wide eyed lunatic water skiing behind him.
I imagine as Bailey triumphantly catches the steak in his mouth, I glide gracefully to a halt, before I disappear under the water like a fishermans float, to be dredged up several hours later by police divers.
I know. Some imagination I have here, huh!
Anyway, you'll be
I do however, still have plans to 'doctor' Sy in the very near future. He honestly deserves it. He'd even tell you so himself.
So next time, a 'report' on our first race together. I look forward to meeting lot's of wonderful people and dogs, and finding out how it is really done.
I bet you really CAN wait, huh!
