Simone dragged me out on a run this morning. For a wee lassie, that dog is fast. Really. Like high octane lightning. We only go about a half a mile, but we finish it thirty seconds before we start. That fast.
It's the best five minutes of her day. And that's with waiting on cars so we can cross the street. She looks so delicate, but dog up there is a beast.
Zali is much more civilized. He strolls. He pulls out his pee shooter at every bush. Checks his pee mail. Greets other dogs. I have to admonish him to move forward. His walk takes about twenty-five minutes. We do about a mile and a quarter. We have long conversations about the upkeep of yards, the menu for lunch, butterflies on an Cotoneaster bush and his bum knee.
After Zali's excursion, it's my turn. I take him home and head out on a run. I go the same mile and a quarter that Zali and I doodle about for nearly a half an hour. I return home in about twelve minutes, depending on the traffic.
Simone's wind sprint training has upped my game. I am running about an eight minute mile.
Hud timed me the other day. He said, "Funny coming from the woman who said she wouldn't run." I replied, "I said I wouldn't. Not that I couldn't."
I'm running from my butt off. Literally.
