This part of my life is called running with Diesel

Some of you know I recently inherited a yellow field lab named Diesel. Well, I’m attempting to train for a race so I was very excited to get a new running buddy as my husband-to-be really doesn’t enjoy running. Well, me and Diesel are off to a great start, we’ve covered 2 miles together, we’ve covered 4 miles together and I really think we’re bonding, making some real progress as running partners. He’s got way more energy than me and actually has had a hand in increasing my pace a bit (or doubling it) now and then. We’ve had good days, and we’ve had quite difficult ones. Well, I had so much fun running with my little friend today, I just couldn’t resist sharing the experience…

Running with a poop bag.
This is usually how my run begins. And when I remember to bring a baggie with me — Diesel never, ever has to do his business. This particular time, I figured since he went 5.4 seconds ago when we left the apartment he’d be good for a quick 30 minute run. I was wrong. (Two bags full of wrong.) The problem with a mid-run poop, even if you have a baggie with you, is that those handy little poop stations are few and far between and usually require a pretty awkward poop-in-hand jog to the next one. For me, this job means one arm stretched out to the left with Diesel pulling almost all my weight forward for me (so sweet of him), and the right hand (poop-in-tow) held out as far as I can possible get one limb from my body — all of this at a 8 min mile pace because I can’t for the life of me get Diesel to run slower than this. Don’t know if you’ve ever seen anyone doing this, but if you have it was probably me so please, no laughing.

Wide Load.
You know that annoying “wide load” vehicle on the road that everyone moves out of the way for? That’s me on the trials when I bring Diesel along. We’re not exactly wide, but when you take into account the span of the trail that he covers in front of me while sprinting from right to left trying as hard as he can to trip me—it’s pretty good coverage. I can see the snickers as they are being exchanged from the passers-by, “that girl can hardly control her dog” they are saying as I’m sweating and looking distressed trying to sprint after Diesel…glad to be your evenings entertainment, folks.

Leash burn.
This is the part of the run where I’ve learned the hard way and now have to brace myself for oncoming pet traffic. Digging my heels into the ground and praying he won’t be interested. He usually is. Definitely 2 hands needed for this, I wrap the leash a few times around at least one hand, then summon all my strength. It usually requires a quick yank back on Diesel, some choking on his part and a whole lot of apologies on mine. My hands are usually a bit raw by the end of the run…

Sudden death.
Just when I think we’re doing good, running in sync, ignoring the other animals, walkers, joggers, bikers & strollers (which totally freak him out), Diesel smells something (anything really) and speed-quits dead in his tracks. The problem is I usually don’t notice until it’s too late and I’ve suffered minor whip lash and slight shoulder dislocation. It’s not bad really, unless someone is watching. When it’s really bad is when he’s running on the left side and smells something on the right and darts directly in front of me. I actually caught some paw today and heard a whimper which completely breaks my heart of course. Then, I say my thank you prayers that I didn’t actually trip over him and start wondering if this is the day that I’m actually going to injure myself and have to explain a band aide on my chin and bruised right side in the office the following day.
So, after dragging me all over the trails for one of the most embarrassing 1.8 miles of my life (and the a long slow walk back because I gave up) I’m wondering if I should give up and keep Diesel’s exercise to Fetch at the parks where he can roam leash free and I know I’m safe and can spare my dignity.