One Day….

Joking with colleagues

Make plans to meet

Passing strangers on

The same side of the street

Going out shopping

Getting all on the list

Ticked all the boxes

Nothing was Missed

Rubbing shoulders on buses

Not a care in the world

But there’s a storm coming

And our worst fears unfurled

Then one day….

Freedoms restricted

Go and stay home

Exercise for one hour

But do it alone

Try to keep busy

To silence the mind

But it wins in the end

At the dead of night

Needing distraction

Craving interaction

Enforced isolation

Needing socialisation

Not bothered to dress

Growing that beard

A trip to the shop

Is now to be feared

Two metres distance

Wash your hands

Try not to cough

Can’t visits Grans

Anxieties rising

Hardly Surprising

Clap for carers

And uniform wearers

The true meaning of ‘hero’

Now fully restored

The lowest paid workers

Captain Tom Moore

Doctors and nurses

On the front line

Working tirelessly

To keep patients alive

Give them the tools

You government fools

We are making notes

For when you want our votes

One Day….

When the dust settles

We’ll mourn those we lost

Pick up the pieces

Count the cost

Picnic in the park

Go to the beach

Have a drink in the pub

Visit those out of reach

Be together once more

Just like before

Make holiday plans

Hug and hold hands

One Day….

What Canicross Is To Us.

I have been expanding my interests of late, and this has meant I am meeting lots of new people, and in doing so, I mention canicross. This leads to the inevitable question ‘What is canicross then?’ I then explain that it is the sport of cross country running with you dog in a harness, attached via a bungee line to a belt worn by the runner. Broadly speaking, that very roughly and briefly sums up the sport.
Only it doesn’t tell the whole story.

Not even close!

Canicross to me, and indeed to most of the people and dogs I know is SO much more than that.

But let’s put MY perspective on it for now!
Running with Bailey has been a MASSIVE part of my life for the last 4.1/2 years. I have often written and spoken of our very relaxed approach to running, training and racing together. The sole reason that we do it is for fun, fitness, cake, beer and pasties. I don’t measure runs by distance, I measure them by how many beers, pies and cakes I can eat after. It’s not an exact science, and to be honest it is rare that I am in calorie deficit for too long, if ever. But hey, motivation is still motivation, whatever form it takes, right?

Canicrossing with Bailey has given us a bond that is so strong, complete strangers literally stop us in the street and comment on it. I was in a park in Brighton not so long ago, sitting and playing with Bailey. I became aware of a lady who had sat behind us, just a little closer than was normal. After about 15 minutes, she came up to us and stroked Bailey, and told us that we had caught her eye, and that she had sat down to watch us larking around, and that it was lovely to see the bond between us. And then she was gone! I was so taken aback, I didn’t even get a chance to ask for her phone number. Shame really, because she was lovely!

But that is not the only time that our bond has been spoken of. We are constantly told by pretty much everyone we meet, whether they are dog people or not, how they can see the bond between us. It is such a joy to hear, and I NEVER tire of hearing it. And it is largely down to canicross that this bond exists.

It’s not just me that gets so much from the sport. It simply would not happen if Bailey wasn’t the willing participant that he is. Like all dogs in the sport, the mere sight of the harness sends Bailey into a frenzy of excitement only surpassed by his excitement for food. He is a Labrador remember!

As I make repeated attempts to lasso the harness over his head, whilst he charges round the room, grabbing and running off with my running shoes, or indeed any other running paraphernalia I have left lying around, I can’t help but have a little pang of excitement at what lies in store for us. The prospect of my best buddy and I heading out for a run, where we work together as a team, him running beside me (he should be ahead of me really, pulling me along, but he’s either not read the rules, or if he has, he’s chosen to ignore them. Good on him I say!) is one that I relish every time I plan a run.

I am so lucky that I have a dog in Bailey that is as relaxed about canicross as I am. They say that dogs are like their owners. I will be the first to admit that Bailey has both the looks and the brains of our little team. I don’t call my blog page ‘The Beauty and The Ballast’ without good reason you know! But when it comes to our attitude towards the sport, the ‘sod being competitive, let’s just go out there and have a laugh’ attitude that we both share, for us, works every time.

That’s not to say that being a competitive team is a bad thing, Of course it isn’t! They call races ‘races’ for a reason you know! And if your team are halfway decent, why shouldn’t you push for placings, medals and glory? Bailey and I have also done this in the past. We have the trophies and medals to prove it. And whilst we have mainly only ‘won’ them when there were fewer competitors in our category than there were trophies, we still had to turn up and race to win them, so it still counts, right?
The thing is, canicross, the dogs and indeed the people we have met in the sport are our prize. Our lives have been enriched so much by the overwhelming majority of people and pups in this sport. We have both taken so much joy, laughter, pain, fun and truly great times from this sport, that the material ‘winnings’ pale into insignificance by comparison. I spend far more time both looking at and sharing the photos taken of the races and runs that we have taken part in together, than the medals and trophies. True, there are many, many more photos than trophies, but even if that were not the case, memories of the fun, laughter, joy and good times we have experienced in the sport are far more precious to us than split times, trophies and placings ever will be. Although one podium finish would be a little nice I guess!

As in most sport, there is always an element of risk involved. I bare more scars from canicrossing in the last 4.1/2 years than I ever gained from the preceding 40+ years of my life. And again, these are more precious, and mean so much more to me than the race bling.

Running through mud, bogs waste deep water, ICED waste deep water, hills so steep that gravity is often the winner, and distances so long that we measure race time with calendars rather than watches, is what canicross is to us. It is a tough sport, made less tough by the friends we have gained whilst being a part of it. It has enriched our lives so, so much. We simply would not have endured some of the tough times we have gone through in the last few years without it. I would not have the relationship with Bailey, and him me without it. At times, it might have nearly broken us. But overall, it has completely made us.

Some Random Words Thrown Together Before The Wine Kicks In

I'm not sure of the exact date, but I think it was the 1st September 2013. I logged on to Facebook, prodded and poked around, swore quite a lot, typed a bit, swore some more, and eventually created the madhouse that we all know as Canicross Sussex.

It started with just 2 members, but gradually started to grow. Our Christmas run in 2013 was a very memorable run. Our biggest run to date at the time, but mainly it was memorable for the fact that team Berry were the only ones in fancy dress, whilst the sum of my 'fancy dress' involved wrapping a bit of tinsel around my bungee line. Which snapped almost as soon as we started running.

Some of us ran a few demonstrations at local events, and gradually the interest started to grow. It was probably about April time that Canicross Sussex really started to grow. New members bringing in more new members. As I write today, we stand at 170 members.

Some of the more memorable moments this year for me have been the CTS Half Marathon at Beachy Head, where Bailey really started to become a great canicross dog. Hard As Snails, a first race for many of us, and where Canicross Sussex turned up en mass and did the group proud, as well as being the scene of our current cover photo. The Checkendon weekend, where we learned that alcohol is not conducive to a great race, but we also learned that when a great group of people and dogs get together, then a laugh, and broken tables are never far away. The Parkrun challenge with Kent Canicross, where we got to eat lots of cake due to our overwhelming victory. Beachy Head Marathon, where Bailey was an absolute star in his first ever marathon, and worked so hard. And then Wildman, a milestone race as it was the toughest and longest race for many of us, as well as being memorable to me for personal reasons,

I started the group to try to find other people to run with. That was it. No politics, just a focus point for me, and more importantly others to run their dogs. I think it is safe to say that THAT mission has been well and truly accomplished.

What makes Canicross Sussex unique compared to other groups is that we have several people that are prepared to get involved and to organise runs. This doesn't happen with many other groups.

It has been a real pleasure seeing the runners that joined us having barely run either ever or not for a long time, develop and become very good, accomplished runners. Some of the improvements in the Parkrun times this year have been truly amazing and inspiring, and this has been achieved by hard work and the great support that the group give each other. If you are reading this as a newbie, take note. This group definitely WILL help you run quicker, and have a lot of fun whilst doing it.

Over the course of this year, we have seen some great and lasting friendships formed. It has really been one of my proudest moments to see how well the group gets on with each other, and this spirit, coupled with the fact that we have quite a giggle when we are all together, is what makes Canicross Sussex such a great group. I may have initially set up the group, but it is the people in it, and of course the dogs, that make it what it is. It has been a real privilege for us to meet, get to know and run with you all. We are an amazing, fun group of people and dogs. You guys are awesome.

I know I have been a bit quiet on here of late, for which I apologise. This is only temporary, and I hope to be back in the thick of things soon. I appreciate the help of others that have taken up the slack and kept things going during this time. It means a lot to me.

Have an awesome Christmas and New Year. You are an amazing group of people and dogs. An amazing group of friends. And I look forward to 2015 with excitement and eager anticipation.

527 Words That Hardly Seem Adequate.

Those that know me will know it doesn't take a lot to confuse me. So it won’t surprise you to learn that confusion reigned in my tiny mind when I came home from work one day to two magazines on my doormat. One, apologetic that I didn't get in to the London Marathon, the other congratulating me that I had. Upon closer inspection, I soon realised that the congratulatory one was actually addressed to Karen.

“Didn't I tell you that I had entered when you asked me to stay up and enter you in the ballot?”

“Pretty sure I’d have remembered THAT conversation love!” (I probably wouldn't have remembered).

And so it began. Karen’s amazing journey from being a spectator to a participant.

We researched several training programs and found a suitable training program, and at the same time Karen decided to join a slimming group.

In the last 5 months I have been in complete awe of my wife. She has got her head down and done exactly what she has needed to do to get fit for London. Even in the early days when she got injured about 6 weeks into the schedule, rested, came back a little too soon, rested some more then got back on the program, she never once said that she couldn't do it. Once she had recovered from her injury, she picked up the training schedule a couple of weeks behind and clawed her way back to being back on track with it again. She never missed a run after the injury. Not one. She simply woke up with the alarm on a weekday, got into her running gear and ran, whilst I was still fumbling for the snooze button on my slippers. As the longer weekend runs came up, she took them on one at a time and simply did them, ticked them off her schedule and looked to see what the next one was. On top of this, she also regularly attended the slimming classes, and made steady, regular progress with her weight as well. Karen has been simply amazing. A true inspiration to me, and many others that I know.

I was lucky enough to pick up a charity place for London, and will now have the privilege of running with her in tomorrow’s race. To say that I will be the proudest runner there tomorrow will be a masterful piece of understatement. As a friend wrote on her Facebook wall, she won’t need luck tomorrow. She has done all the hard work. Tomorrow is all about reaping the rewards of that hard work. It is about everything she has done since confirmation of her entry landed on our doormat coming together and getting her to the finish line. She had not run a step for years when she entered, yet tomorrow she will do something that many people only dream about. She will run the London Marathon. Instead of being in front of the TV screen watching the events, she will be part of it. Instead of being a dreamer, she will be a marathon runner.

Enjoy your day darling. You so deserve it.

Love Stephen.

Windmill Hill. Definitely A Name Of Two Halves!

Hello.

Bailey here.

It seems it has been a while since old 'Captain Speedy' there has penned anything on here. He would tell you he's been far too busy and hasn't got the time these days. Yeah right. That story is a double bagger at least!

Anyway, I thought it was about time you heard my side of our sorry story. It ain't easy living with 'Baldilocks and The Three Hairs' there as I'm sure you can imagine. So, here goes with one of the many 'lowlights' from our canicross year. An outtake. Only in our lives they are very much the norm rather than the exception.

Let's take our first Brutal race for example. Windmill Hill. The more observant among you will note that there's a clue in the title as to the type of terrain that was involved in this race. And no, I do NOT mean we had to practice running around windmills.

Or hills either apparently.

Nope. Up until then, anything steeper or longer than the incline of a drop kerb was to be avoided altogether. Or at best walked up, with him gasping and wheezing like an old set of bagpipes that are on the receiving end of the unwanted advances of an octopus.

We did most of our training on terrain that would make a billiard table look like the alps! It's like training to go on a diet by eating a whole gateaux.

So, we turn up for the race. It's February and a little chilly. Now I am a fairly thin coated chap, but despite this, I don't really mind the cold. Old chunky there though starts to put on layer after layer of clothing. I have heard him talk of chest high water crossings to come in this race. As long as they aren't any deeper. My running buddy there has the swimming abilities of a tangled octopus.

Mind you, anyone running through the water after us, not that there will be that many, need not worry. With the amount of layers 'Viscount Vileda' there has got on, he will absorb all water immediately on contact!

So, the race gets under way, and as usual it isn't long before we are pretty near the back despite my best efforts. And as we come out of some trees into a small clearing, the ground suddenly goes vertical. I look up at it in awe.

Wow, what a hill!

A very small voice from behind me gasps.

"You are (insert expletive of choice here, but I'd recommend a very strong one) kidding me!"

My admiration for the piece of geography in front of me turns to concern. We are only about half way through this race, and I am without a doubt going to be dragging a corpse around the second half of it if we even attempt to go up this!

We arrive at the bottom of the hill, take about 6 steps up it and come to a dead stop. Thinking that the line has got snagged, I turn around to see 'Edmund Hillary' there face down in the dirt. Now call me old fashioned, but I thought that the idea of a race was to get around the course as fast as you can. Or at the very least show some signs of movement.

"Aaaaaany sign of movement at all back there big fella?"

"A thumbs up will do!"

"Speak to me dammit!"

"Hello?"

Nothing.

I am perched precariously about 6 foot up what is admittedly a rather steep hill, attached to the carcass of my soon to be dead, stiff, but otherwise not much worse smelling than usual ex running partner.

Thinking the worse, I am about to go into emergency resuscitation mode, when it finally begins to show signs of movement. An arm reaches out, has a feel about and eventually finds a tree route above and to the left of him. Then the other one goes high and to the right to grab a tuft of grass. A foot then extends and scrambles before finding a proper foot hold.  the other leg extends and finds purchase on another root. It's head then raises and to look for further anchor points above it. Finding none, it swears profusely before letting it's head drop into the dirt again.

We stay like this for some considerable time.

From behind us, a proper runner from the group that started 10 minutes after us heads towards us. He eyes the sight before him, barely disguising his amusement.

"Are you OK there?" The proper runner asks, with barely a gasp OR a slowing in his pace.

"Yeah fine thanks" it lies through a mouthful of dirt.

"Really? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yeah great, honestly. You carry on!"

"If you're sure then" says the proper, surefooted runner and sprints off up the hill.

At this point, I decide to lie down too, and put my head between my paws, mortified with embarrassment.

To the point that my fur is starting to curl.

I'm turning into a Labradoodle with the shame!

I lift my head and turn around and take in the scene. Bless him. He looks like he's doing an impression of a little starfish there, with his arms and legs spread out the way that they are. I also notice the bungee line caught around his leg and riding a little too high for comfort up his leg for his own well being.

The bungee line!

Now dear reader, I am not a vengeful puppy. Not in the least. But as more and more runners run past us, either laughing, smirking or completely ignoring us, an evil plot of revenge begins to form in my cute, beige head.

All I need a bit of cooperation from some of local wildlife, and the perfect crime can be committed.

I look about for some form of wildlife. A squirrel. A bird. A passing deer would be absolutely perfect right now. Anything that will give me a legitimate reason to run, and in one violent tug of the bungee, resolve our little furniture 'dry humping' antics.

My search for wildlife now becomes more frantic as there are signs that 'Sergeant Surefoot' behind me is attempting some form of forward motion.

A fly. Ant. A leaf blowing in the breeze. ANYTHING!

Nothing.

I consider just going for it and pleading guilty on the grounds of diminished responsibility at my trial, when it finally manages to haul it's bulk up from the ground, untangle the bungee line and slowly ascend the hill.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Slowly.

What follows is several minutes of taking a couple of steps, sliding back a step, swearing, taking another couple of steps, pausing to admire the view, more sliding back and so on. All the time this is going on, other runners are trotting past us with barely a stumble, slip or profanity.

Eventually, the hill begins to level out, and the speed of our forward motion accelerates from glacier like to that of a heavily salted slug. Only more messy.

And do you know what?

Despite the amount of sightseeing time we had, we never saw one windmill on the whole flippin' race!

Lots Of Licks

Bailey.

Tuffman 2013. Our First Race. And Almost Our Last...........

As we pulled up in the car park, the temperature gauge in the car was blinking 0 degrees.

It was lying

It was at least minus 20 out there. With a wind that couldn't be bothered to go round you. It went straight through you instead.

We had arrived at Tuffman. My very first canicross race. Ever. And I had decided to run it with 2 dogs.

Mrs B gives me the look she has used so many times in the last few weeks. The one that says "You are gonna come a cropper".

Me, I was just excited. OK, and maybe a little bit scared.

Others arrive, canicrossers amongst them. They recognise me, despite the fact I had decided to go incognito today, and had left my sink plunger hat and tiger onesie at home.

They made me feel very welcome, and we spent a good while chatting and shivering in the Siberian conditions.

As start time nears, we get the kit ready, and get myself into my many layers. This includes putting a head camera on, to capture our adventure. Our gentle trot out on a nippy Saturday morning. How civilised!

Our dogs, already excited at the sight of other dogs and strange people, now go into hyper excitement as they see the harnesses, and are really starting to get quite lively.

Putting the harnesses on the dogs is like trying to nail jelly to a wall. They wriggle and jump around as I play hook the dog with the harness.

All hooked up, I unhook them from the car and they leap out, heading towards the nearest dog they can find, with me in hot pursuit.

We get to the start line with a few minutes to spare, and I hover at the back, trying to keep a lines length from anybody else. My dogs are going crazy. Barking, jumping up, tying me up in knots and generally doing everything to get me to let them go.

It's about now that it starts to dawn on me that this might not be the 'gentle start' to a canicross event that I had envisaged.

The dogless runners start their race, and I watch them go. I note the start is a longish, downhill section.

A little bit of pooh comes out.

I can't help it. I'm in a hole so damn deep, there isn't a digger in the world that's big enough to get me out of this! I've only been doing this about 5 or 6 weeks! This is only my second run with both the dogs together!

EVER!!!!!!

Oh dear.........! (Actually, some slightly less savoury words go through my mind, but I'm too polite to repeat them on here).

As the other dogs head towards the start, I hang back. I turn the camera on. Another lady runs up alongside us and introduces herself and her dog and asks how I'm feeling.

"Excited" I lie.

"1 Minute" The starter announces.

I distract myself by attempting to calm the dogs down. Pointless. They are having the time of their lives already here. And they are.......lively! I am leaning back at a 45 degree angle trying to keep the little blighters from making a jump start here!

The horn goes off. I release the dogs.

"Go!"

I swear, name any formula one driver, put him in the best formula one car next to us, and he would NEVER have left that start line as quickly as we did.

We go from a standing start to about light speed in the blink of an eye.

"Easy!!!!!" I call to the dogs.

Nothing.

"EEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Nope. This isn't how we practiced it. This isn't how we practiced it at all! Over our local park, on our own the dogs trotted along, pulling firmly but gently. Bailey even looks over his shoulder when we are on our own, to check for directions.

The little sod ain't looking over his shoulder now, that's for sure!

Ooooohhhhh no! My bungee line is just over 2 metres at full stretch according to the website I bought it from.

Right now, I beg to differ. You would get very small change out of 5 metres I reckon.

Freddie, my 7 year old collie, the one I was keen to get to take things easy, has other ideas. He's clearly been watching Hussain Bolt during the Olympics, and is in full flight. Even Bailey is struggling to keep up with him.

As for me, I am a picture of wide eyed terror, arms flailing in all directions, legs a blur as we go careering down this hill at waaaaaaayyy beyond my top speed!

"EEEEEEAAAAASSSSSYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Freddie, EASY" I appeal to the dog whom I think will pay more attention to me.

"I'm sorry, Freddie's ears are not available to take your screamed messages right now. Please leave a message, and he'll ignore that as well".

As we continue to hurtle down the hill, we are overtaking everybody. I mean everybody. Dogs and runners part as we scream by them. If I had thought about it, I would have smiled smugly and nodded as we ran past them, a look of "Check out how quick we are!" "See you at the finish line suckers!"

But right now, it is taking everything I have just to stay upright.

We are rapidly approaching barrier that we have to pass to the left of to turn at the bottom of the hill. and we are too far right. If we turn left too late, we are going straight through this barrier, and will be medium sliced as we come out the other side of it.

"LEEEEEEFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT!!!!!" I yell.

I know that it's largely down to the fact that everyone else is turning left, and nothing to do with my calm and timely directions to my dogs that they make the turn, and I follow, broadside behind them.

The ground levels out at this point, and the dogs settle to a slightly more manageable speed. Still waaaaay too fast for my liking, but now only moderately terrifying, as opposed to 'underwear soilingly' so.

We continue into a wooded trail area, and the we hit another downhill section. Only this is worse. This is muddy, slippery and bumpy. And there are trees.

The dogs pick up speed.

The downhill gets steeper.

And muddier.

The dogs accelerate to stupid miles an hour.

And I am scared.

"WOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH........EASYEASYEASYEASYEASY......."

Absolutely no response from the engine room whatsoever. I consider a Star Trek Scottie type of "She canee tek noo muuurrrr cap'n. She's gannee blow any second!"

I have got to get us slowed down. We are going way too fast here. I am seconds away from a face plant here, and at this speed, it's going to be a tooth and bowel loosener for sure.

Several trees flash by us on my right. I am now sliding, more than running down this hill that is getting ever steeper so it seems.

Then I spot her ahead. A picture of beauty. A tall slim specimen of loveliness. She. Is. Gorgeous. I want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

I have fallen in love with a tree up ahead. I decide we have got to stop, and I simply have to chat her up.

I am going to hug that tree!

My right hand extends, and I make a grab for her.

Got her!

The right side of my body slows.

The left side.......doesn't.

Uh oh!

This ain't gonna end well!

It doesn't.

My body spins, and I lose my grip on my new found love, as she slaps my hand away in disgust.

I go down like a felled tree. Straight onto my back, where I slide for what feels like a good few feet, helped by both gravity and the dogs pulling.

I hear a voice from behind me shout "Man down!"

The camera catches it all.

I am sure that many of you have seen the footage already. For those that haven't. I have the clip here.

You can see that I actually get up very quickly. I have suffered a trampling from Bailey in the past, as he rushes to check that I am OK. I am not about to suffer the same fate by the pair of them! And people have seen me fall. As much as I want to curl up in a ball and cry, my dignity won't let me. I leap up.

"Are you OK?"

"Yep, absolutely fine". I stop myself from saying "I meant to do it actually".

After double checking that I really am fine, the nice lady runs on ahead, and we continue at a much slower pace.

It seems that the dogs have at last got the message, and have slowed.

It occurs to me that we have done a lot of downhill stuff so far. And pretty soon we start to climb. The dogs choose this moment to get 'tired' and stop pulling.

Oh, NOW you choose to slow down!

I am reduced to a slower and slower running pace, and eventually I walk.

I probably should have done some more hill training.

And so the run continues. A real mix of road, hard trail, mud very narrow paths and trees.

Other highlights from the run include -

• Slipping again, going down very briefly on one knee (proposing the tree I fell in love with perhaps?)
• Suddenly discovering a ramp in the path which a stunt motorcycle rider would use to jump double decker buses.........OK, maybe a slight exaggeration. I realise it is a ramp when the dogs jump over it. No time to slow them down. I launch off this thing at a fair old pace and for a brief moment, I am treading air. I land heavily on my feet, my knees buckling but I just manage to stay upright.
• Running waaaaaay to close to a river for comfort, with at least one of my dogs that absolutely loves water. He looks longingly at it several times. Luckily, Freddie is not so keen on water, otherwise I would have been regretting not taking my water wings.
• Briefly taking a separate path to the dogs (I took the correct path of course!) My path went up, theirs didn't. They had to clamber up a steep bank to get back on track.
• Hugging another tree where the path was very narrow and very close to the water at one point so as not to get dragged in.

As the run continues, I see some yellow signs ahead.

CAUTION STEEP HILL

As we pass this sign another one reads

CHICKEN RUN

It points to an alternative, less steep route. I am sorely tempted to take the chicken run, but there may be people watching.

I stop the dogs completely.

"There is NO way we are running down this one boys!"

This isn't so much a hill, as a cliff. A parachute would have been more appropriate.

I ease the dogs forward. If they decide to take off now, it is game over for sure.

Luckily, they take it very easy down the hill. Well, three quarters of it at least. They suddenly accelerate as we near the bottom.

"EEEEEEAAAAASSSSSSYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!"

I swear they look at each other & laugh!

Further on, we stop a couple of times for a poop. I'll not bother to clarify it was for the dogs. You've already made up your minds, haven't you.

I bag it, struggling to tie a knot with my gloves on and whilst running. It's a welcome source of heat in these conditions, I can tell you.

We start a long steady climb on a road surface, and again we slow to a walk. I don't mind admitting I was knackered at this point, but Freddie was a bit tired as well. He's done amazingly well considering his age and how little training he had done, and I didn't want to push him to hard.

As we turn off the road towards the finish, the dogs naturally start to pick up the pace again. It's hardly a sprint finish, but we manage to run across the finish line.

We are cold, wet, tired muddy and above all, very happy. We will definitely be back for another race soon.

Tomorrow actually. Our first ever Brutal. A hilly, muddy and wet run. I am only taking one dog this time. Bailey will love the water. Me.........less so.

So, with less than a week to go before our first race, I thought I'd better update you all with what could be the last post.

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!

The local park that we run at is hilly, muddy and hilly.

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 the git our mate Sy likes to give Bailey a liiiitle bit more encouragement on the downhills.

"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 sorry delighted to hear that I somehow made it around the bend in one piece, Sy did not produce the steak (although this will undoubtedly have given him the idea now)  and finished the run unscathed.

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!