Sorry, But I'm Afraid We're Going THERE Again!

We wind our way along the snow covered lane in the 4 x 4, taking great care through the width restriction posts. I don't have a great track record with posts. They tend to jump out at me when I am not looking. My car bares many a scrape and a dent from my lack of spacial awareness.

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 small sensitive areas of the male anatomy. I would like to say that this will definitely NOT be a regular feature in my future blogs.

However, I would probably be lying..............

Explaining The TuTu.........

I am an idiot.

No, really.

Those of you who know me will already realise that my opening statement is true. Those of you that don't will definitely realise it by the time they have finished reading this.

I lace up my road running shoes, having ordered, but not yet received my trail shoes, and head towards the front room to stretch some life into my legs. Today's stretch, like every other one I do, is 'assisted' by the combined efforts of my 2 dogs. They attempt to sit on me, wash my ears, nibble my nose, and generally walk all over me as I sit on the floor.

"Geroff me!" I say, as Freddie attempts to sit on my lap, and Bailey sticks his tongue in my left ear hole. This only serves to excite them further, and I can add a good old tail whipping from both dogs to my warm up routine.

Warm up completed, and rather damp from dog drool, I drag myself up off the floor, and head into the kitchen.

"Bailey"

The sound of 4 pairs of paws struggling for purchase on the lino floor is followed by the sight of the boys scampering into the kitchen and around my feet.

"Sit".

Freddie immediately does as he is asked. Bailey.......doesn't. He grabs a Kong and scoots off around the kitchen in an orgy of excitement.

I wait. I haven't always been quite this patient with Bailey. As I have previously stated, Bailey has a very relaxed view to good manners and good behavior. It took me a while to realise that shouting at him made absolutely no difference whatsoever. Made him even more hyper in fact. So nowadays, I play the waiting game. It works. Eventually.

Gradually, his excitement wains, and Bailey casually wanders over to me and sits down, dropping the Kong on my foot as he sits.

I pat Freddie. "Good boy, you stay here". I put the lead on Bailey, the belt on me, grab the line and harness and head out the door.

We walk the half mile to where we will be away from the road, and I put the harness on Bailey, which he readily accepts, much to my surprise. This is only the second time I have put it on him, but he doesn't fight me at all. He approaches this latest adventure as he does pretty much everything new or old, with much excitement, tail wagging and bounce.

I attach the line to him and remove his lead, tucking it into my running jacket pocket. I double check we are attached, take a quick photo, and take a deep breath.

"Go on then, good boy!"

Bailey takes off. Literally. Vertically. Just as well. If he'd have put that much force into horizontal movement, I would have been having a little lie down on the path right now, cursing gently under my breath.

I continue jogging, with Bailey bouncing along beside me. I don't expect the bouncing to last too long, and after a few seconds he settles into a trot.

"Good boy!"

Bounce.

As before, Bailey trots beautifully to heal at my side. I grab the line to avoid it becoming a trip hazard for both of us. I wave my arms forward.

"Go Bailey, good boy!"

Bounce. Bounce.

"Go on, good boy".

Bailey pulls ahead.

"Good Boy". "Go on then!"

As the line tightens, I let it go. Bailey feels the line go tight and immediately slows, until he is along side me.

"Go on Bailey, Go!"

Again, he pulls forward, feels the line go tight and slows to a trot alongside me. This happens repeatedly, him going ahead, and slowing to trot beside me when he feels the line go tight.

I am in effect, running with a yellow, 4 legged, very excitable yo yo.  You may have heard of a yo yo trick called walking the dog, but never the other way round. By now, we are in the park proper, and it is quite busy. People are looking on in awe at the sight of this lunatic labrador, bouncing and 'yo yo ing' between the middle aged bald bloke and the full length of the line.

"I could never do that with my dog!" a bemused lady says as we pass her by, my arms flailing for balance,  and the golden nugget bounding alongside/ahead, obviously having the time of his life.

"I'm not entirely sure I can do it with mine either" I think to myself.

A small group of 3 or 4 people are ahead of us, talking, and blocking the path. I slow to a trot.

"Whoa Bailey".

At this point, another dog runs behind me, from right to left. Bailey goes to give chase, half wrapping the line around my back as he goes. Luckily, he doesn't pull to hard, and I am able to counteract his movement.

Now, the sensible thing to do here would be to stop, unwrap the line from behind me, reset Bailey and continue.

Yep, the sensible thing.

I choose not to do the sensible thing.

I twirl. Whilst still running.

I Pirouette.

I Pirou...flipping......ette. Darcey Bussell, eat your heart out. And lend me your tutu.

I twirl, land facing exactly the right way, and continue running.

As I approach the group ahead, who are obviously impressed with my nifty little manoeuvre, one of them even comments.

"Nice pirouette love!"

"Thanks!" I gasp as we gallop on by.

2 more dogs appear ahead from nowhere. Baileys head immediately goes up as they catch his attention.

"Go on, keep going, good boy!"

Amazingly, despite his obvious desire to drag me through the trees to join in the fun that the other 2 dogs are having, Bailey continues to run. It is then that I realise that he is pulling.

I let out an over excitable "Good boy!!!"

Bailey immediately turns towards me to collect the pat on the head and general fuss he so richly deserves. My momentum carries me straight passed him, and he rushes around me to catch up, again wrapping the line behind me.

I do it again.

I pirouette. This one even better than the first!

I'm getting good at this!

And so it continues. We yo yo, bounce, run, walk and pirouette our way around the park. But all is good. We are having fun. This is what it is all about.

Now, let us pause a moment to picture the scene. To take stock.

I am attached to nearly 30 kilos of nutty, hyper labrador. The path is very muddy from all the rain we have had, and I am wearing road shoes. I am barely in control of my idiotic self, with the twirling thing I've got going on, never mind the dog!

You can see what's coming, can't you!

Why the heck couldn't I?

I'm not sure of the exact circumstances leading up to it, but the lead gets wrapped around me once again. And I pirouette to untangle it. As I land, facing the right way I hasten to add, my right foot hits a patch of mud, and I begin to lose traction. My upper body starts to travel forward faster than my legs. I open my stride in a pathetic attempt to get my lower half to catch up with my top half. Just when I feel I may be able to save myself, my legs decide they want no further part in this charade, and give up.

I go down. Like a professional footballer in the penalty area. My hands go out in front of me to limit the damage to my face. At least they didn't abandon me in my hour of need. Unlike my legs. I will be having a little chat with them later on.

As I slide to a graceful halt, Baileys immediate reaction is to come bounding up to me, obviously concerned for my welfare, beating me about the head with his tail.

"Ohmygoddadyouvefallenoverareyoualrightareyousureyouralrightpleasesaysomethinganything!!!"

He then proceeds to trample on a part of my anatomy where you just don't want to be trampled.

I let out a "Uggghhhhnnnnnnffffffffffffffaaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhhh".

I cough, and slowly roll over on to my side to prevent any further damage from The Golden Gonad Crusher.

I eventually stop crying compose myself.

"It's all right Bailey I am fine".

Unconvinced, he continues to fuss all around me, giving me a quick once over to make sure I really am OK.

Well at least he didn't come to any harm.

Suddenly aware that this is a public place, I hastily look around for observers.

I got away with it. Nobody around to witness my sorry demise.

I pick myself up, double check everything about me is roughly where it should be, and continue the run.

When the line wraps around me again, I stop, step over the it to unwrap myself from it, and carry on.

As we near the end of the run, Bailey appears to be pulling a little more consistently. The initial excitement, having subsided, he seemed to start to understand what I wanted him to do.

Either that, or he was deliberately keeping his distance, so if I did take another dive, I didn't inadvertently use him to break my fall.

Now you have read all that, go back and re-read my opening sentence.


I hate to say I told you so but......................



Next - We borrow a friend to chase, take photos and use to help us stop!

.........and so it begins.

I opened the kitchen drawer, and fumbled around excitedly for the scissors. The stabbing pain in my thumb told me I'd found them. I obediently cut along the 'Cut along this line' line of the plastic envelope, and tipped the contents out onto the kitchen worktop. A tangle off webbing, rope and strapping sat before me. I extracted the envelope, containing what was obviously the instructions from the pile and tossed it aside, unopened.

"How hard can it be?"

Yep, I am a typical male.

I picked up what what was obviously the harness, and eyed it approvingly.

"Looks about the right size" I say to Mrs B.

She looks on, with only the faintest roll of her eyes. She's seen it all before. This is obviously the latest in a string of mad ideas I've had since my mid life crisis began about 4 years ago.

"Bailey come" I call.

I needn't have bothered. The golden nugget was already around my feet, playing percussion with his tail on the kitchen cupboards and the washing machine, and sniffing at the harness in my hands to see if it was edible.

"Sit. Good boy!"

Turning the harness over until I'm pretty sure it is in the correct position, I offer it to his head, knowing what is coming. Bailey opens his mouth and wraps it around the harness. The latest game of tug of war has started.

"Bailey leave".

Pointless.

All this does is serve to excite him further, and increase his will to hang on. I crouch down and get a better grip on the harness, but do not pull. And wait. It's over after about 5 seconds. Bailey relinquishes the harness, sits on his ever wagging tail and gives me a look as though to say "I know, but I thought it was fun".
I take hold of the collar end of the harness and place it over his head. It is snug, but slides over his noble head relatively easily.

"Hmmmmm.....that was easy......too easy".

I worked out where his legs went through, and attempted to gently coax one of his legs through. Baileys response is to immediately roll over onto his side. "

Yep, that's more like it. Make it as difficult as possible for us!"

After making him sit again, I say "Paw". He immediately offers his paw, and we gently feed it through the leg loop.

"Other one". He offers the other paw, and I poke that through the other loop.

Mrs B and I stand up and admire our work.

"That's not right!" says Mrs B.

The back of the harness that is supposed to run down his back is underneath him.

Doh!

We take the harness off, and put it back on again. This time it looks right. It fits. Perfectly. I am amazed. I have the unique ability, even when the odds are overwhelmingly in my favour of getting things wrong. The law of sod was invented because of me. And I had lengthened the odds against me getting this purchase correct considerably by having to take measurements before ordering. This alone should have ensured that this harness should have turned up so overwhelmingly large, that Bailey could have walked straight through it without touching the sides. Even Mrs B looks impressed.

Very pleased with myself, I reach for the belt and put it on. That too fits, only needing minor adjustment. Next I pick up the line and bungee. This seems very long. I attach the (correct) end to the harness, and the other end to the belt.

"There. What do you think babe?"

"Yeah, it looks fine".

I grab the line about halfway along to use as a leash, and head out the door.

"Be back in a minute" I call behind be.

I take Bailey out into the Cul-de-sac outside our gate, and release the line from my grasp. Bailey just stands there, looking at me, tail wagging furiously.

"Now what?" he seems to ask.

"Go on then, good boy" I say excitedly.

This has the equivalent effect of putting a large jolt of electricity through our dog, who leaps up in the air at my side repeatedly, beside himself with excitement.

Well at least he's having fun!

"Go on then!" I say again and start to gently jog down the road. Bailey does an impression of a kangaroo, and jumps up at me with increased vigour and excitement. I stop.

"Sit Bailey". The jumping gradually subsides, and eventually Bailey sits, panting a little and tilts his head, a little confused.

"Good boy". I pat him affectionately. The tail goes into propeller mode, despite the fact he is sitting on it.

"Come on then, good boy" I say and begin to walk. As Bailey walks at the side of me, I break into a little jog. Again, he leaps up, but after a few times, he stops jumping, and trots beside me.

"Good boy".

Bailey is a natural healer. By that,I don't mean he will cure all your ills with nothing more than a dock leaf and a lick. I mean he has pretty much always walked alongside us with very little pulling, apart from the initial 'Outta my way, I've gotta pee' dash first thing in the morning. It's just as well really. It's not that he is badly behaved. He just sees training and good manners in a very casual way. Optional even. He would probably make a very good guide dog in his more calm moments. A part time guide dog that is. About 3 minutes a week if he's really concentrating. But luckily, he just seemed to realise that when he is on the lead, it is much nicer to walk calmly alongside us, rather than on the end of a pole tight lead with eyeballs bulging, panting like The Mallard locomotive and trying to walk on his back legs. He is a real pleasure to walk.

Even off the lead, he doesn't go far. I have had dogs in the past that as soon as you let them off the lead, make it their mission to put as much distance between you and them as possible. Even our Freddie, our 7 year old collie wanders off, but will come back when called. But not Bailey. He will play with other dogs, run off with Freddie a little and go check out stuff, but most of the time, he trots alongside us.

So why do you ask, do you think he is going to drag your sorry carcass around a trail run, when he's happy just to trot alongside? Short answer - It just seemed like a good idea.
And so, our adventure begins. I have no idea where this will end up. I also have no idea where this is going. Or what the heck I am doing come to that! I have already entered us into a race for about 8 weeks time, an 8km trail run about 30 miles away, so we need to get some training in.

Next - Our first 'proper' training run, and how I should perhaps wear a tutu whilst running!