Small Victories: Walkies

There are these two terriers in our neighborhood that Zooey has claimed as her mortal enemies. She FUH-REAKS OUT when they walk by our house. When we have encountered them on walks, chaos has ensued. I've decided that she sees them as some sort of prey she needs to tree, because every time she picks up their scent, she goes the same kind of crazy as when she's gone on raccoon hunts.

Even at 100% strength, when she goes into full coonhound huntress mode, it's a struggle to stay upright, and that was everyone's concern when I started walking her again.

For the most part, our walks have been great. I think both of us are happy to have that time again, me because Walking is better than Not Walking and her because obviously I'm the cool parent who lets her do things on walks.

Head 'em up, and move 'em out!

This morning, though, she picked up a scent and whoa, buddy, were we off.

Yes, it was those two terriers again. 

Maybe I should start calling them "those white raccoons on leashes." 

Anyway…

Zooey was hell bent on catching up to them, but the most amazing thing happened.

I didn't fall when she pulled.

In fact, I was able to hold on to her leash (albeit with both hands) and make sure she didn't drag me anywhere.

Barking at those white raccoons is exhausting.

The last little bit of our walk was much faster than I'd intended, and I'd like to offer the neighborhood a "you're welcome" for being able to serve as a backup alarm so no one was late to work (I guess Zooey needs to take that credit), but it was the first walk that included unplanned instability - as opposed to the stability exercises I do at PT - and I managed to stay upright.

Ideally, I'd already be thinking about 10K an beyond, but in reality, I'm looking forward to the day when I can do a full minute of running intervals while walking. That means I need to find the joy in making progress toward that goal. And while the last year and a half has been frustrating, I'm making progress back to the running and cycling that I love, this time hopefully stronger and better able to meet my goals.

Walking a Mile (Almost) in My Shoes

Though I've done almost zero running for over a year, I've been trying to keep a regular walking (and when it's cooler, hiking) regimen with Zooey. Just because girlfriend is 7 doesn't mean she is slowing down, and so we walk.
Until my surgery, that is.
Obviously, walking any dog while on narcotics and crutches would be a terrible idea; as such, since the morning of my surgery, Husband has taken over dog walking duty. Even after I was cleared to drive, I wasn't stable enough to walk a dog who might pull unexpectedly. And certainly a fall is NOT what I need right now.
Last week, though, my physical therapist said I could walk Zooey. As long as Husband went with us in order to make sure nothing tragic would ensue. With HRH headed out on a trip with her grandmas this weekend, it was perfect timing. We could take Zooey on her regularly scheduled morning walk without trying to bring a 6-year-old along as well.
Friday was my first foray, and we went on what is basically a normal weekday walk route (on weekends we tend to take Zooey through the park down the street). Even though we cut it a little short, I was exhausted. I was out of breath and needed to stop every once in a while. When we got home, I couldn't ice my hip quickly enough.
It's amazing how quickly we lose any endurance, really.
But that doesn't mean I wanted to keep Not Walking Zooey, so Saturday I got up (after sleeping in, another perk of HRH being on holiday without us) and took her for a shorter loop around our neighborhood.

Hey, Zo, you wanna go for a walk? ME TOO!

Without Husband chaperoning.
It's not that I don't like spending time with him, but it was exhilarating to exercise a little more physical independence again.
Yes, I brought my phone and RoadID with me. I'm independent, not reckless.
Over the course of the walk, we encountered two kitties, one dog who JUMPED his fence to try to get at Zooey, a beagle  on its walk that Zooey really, really wanted to meet, and a woman walking two black fuzz balls that may have been long haired chihuahuas. But not once did Zooey pull or jerk me. She was, for the most, a model of a canine good citizen.

We walked .95 miles. I took 2,047 steps.
It wasn't even a mile.
It certainly wasn't a marathon.
It was just far enough for me to start getting tired, so that route will serve as my starting point as I work to build endurance. I need to be able to walk comfortably (and maybe a little more quickly at some point) in order to being the Couch to 5K program. Sure, when I started running I didn't follow a plan and just kind of went with what felt right, but this time I'll be starting from an even weaker fitness level, so I'm going to do it carefully, under the guidance of my ortho and my physical therapist. My goal is start the program on September 20, which will allow me to complete it for a 5K in November. We'll see what my ortho has to say when I see him next week.
Until then, I'll be out walking with Zooey.

The Price We Pay for Love

Cats are jerks.
They are jerks because sometimes they pee on your bed, or your dog's bed, or your kid's princess bean bag.
They are jerks because they can't be bothered to accept your love when it's convenient but insist upon it when it's not.
They are jerks because if they throw up, it's always on the carpet or a comforter.
But mostly, they are jerks because they leave us before we are ready for them to go.

Holden left us Thursday morning. 

He was 16, or thereabouts.

His decline was swift; I brought him to the vet the previous Thursday because he'd stopped eating. After some blood tests, a liver infection was determined, and we picked up a prescription of antibiotics as well as some canned food for him to enjoy.

He ate two small meals but then refused anything else. Then he peed on my bed and the couch in short succession.

In a panic, I took him in again on Tuesday, and we had a urinalysis done as well. His urine was extremely diluted, but there was no infection, and there was no fever. 

He'd lost half a pound since Thursday.

At that point, the vet knew it wasn't just an infection, but she gave us an appetite stimulant to see if that, combined with some force feeding in the meantime, would bring him back around.
But even in this attempt, she wasn't optimistic. Having seen him Thursday and again Tuesday, she saw such a change that she….she just knew.
We had the discussion.
But I really really really really really really really hoped that things would change.
But they didn't.

Have you ever force fed a pet? I don't recommend it. It's heartbreaking. And not only did I have to force feed my baby boy the stinkiest food on the planet; I also had to force two pills down his throat.
It tore me up.
When he continued to refuse food, I knew.
He was tired, and it was time.
We decided to let him go Friday. That decision to wait was a little selfish; I know. But we still had a small hope that the appetite stimulant would, in some miraculous way, bring him back.
Hope springs eternal, after all.
Thursday morning, he couldn't walk. I ran into the bathroom, where Husband was showering, and let him know, and he called the vet.
But Holden, who always hated car rides, had no desire to make one more trip. He lay himself down, and I knew that his time was close. I petted him, and I told him that if he needed to go, I understood.
A few minutes later, he was gone.
I was holding on to him. I held him as he came into our lives, and I held him as he left.

Holden was my first Christmas present from Husband when we were first dating. Underneath the Christmas tree at his uncle's in Pinetop in 2000, I opened a package that contained a gift certificate to the Arizona Humane Society. He knew I loved cats, having grown up with them (Punkin, Scooter, Tiger, Blackie, Fanny, and Roy, throughout my first 18 years), and that I wanted to have my own cat as an adult.

So, over the Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend in January, 2001, we took a field trip to the Humane Society, planning to bring home a cute little kitten.

But alas, there were few kittens that day, so we meandered through the adult cages.

In one of the bottom cages, two golden, beseeching eyes looked up at me, begging to get out.

We took him to the private "preview"room, and it was all over. 

I was smitten.

A gorgeous, orange white creamsicle of a cat.

We were told he was three years old and had been relinquished because "he pees on things."

And he was all mine.

And he did pee on things. Everything, it seemed like. But then our vet at that time diagnosed him with urine crystals, which, common in neutered males, is extremely uncomfortable. After changing his food to a low calcium prescription diet, he barely peed inappropriately (except for when he got pissed about Zooey coming into our lives, but I'll let that one go - new puppies can be traumatic for a cat).
We had almost-fourteen almost-pee-free years together.

Wherever we went, Holden went with us. He was our first little family member.
When we moved to Michigan so Husband could complete his master's degree, Holden came with us. He learned to live in sometimes-harmony with my in-laws' cat Pepper and Akita Chili (who rolled him exactly once).
When we moved back to Arizona, he came back and happily took to being an "only child" once again, likely relieved that the damn Akita was no longer in his midst.
When we moved into our house, he claimed his space quickly.
When we brought Zooey home, he was pissed but at the same time relieved that the upstairs was (until Zooey stopped peeing on the carpet because she couldn't tell that it was Not Grass) his domain.
When HRH was born, he claimed her, and her room, as his.

While he was loved by all members of our family, including Zooey, he was always My Cat. He knew, somehow, that I was the one who chose him and helped him find freedom from his little cell at the Humane Society. I was the one who cleaned his toilet. I was the one whom he woke in the mornings to feed him.

He was my boy. And I was his human.

Last night, I dreamed that it was a few days ago, and I brought Holden a can of food. Instead of refusing it, he perked up and ate it all, regaining the vigor he had lost.
You can make of it what you will; I know it's his way of saying he's OK now. He's not in pain. He's happy. He's comfortable. He's free.

Run free, my sweet boy. Thank you for the years of love that you gave to us. You were the first member of our little family, and we our house will never be the same in your absence. 

I will never forget you. 

Grief is the price we pay for love.

And despite the pain, I'd do it all over again.

I love you, Kitty Man.

For the Love of Dog: Ice Cream Tuesday Edition

I had planned a lengthy post that would highlight why I love my dog so dang much, but between work and school, with ballet camp for HRH and a migraine sandwiched in there somewhere, I'm just gonna post some cute but less than stellar quality pics of the world's greatest black and tan coonhound and boil it down to this: your dog wants to celebrate Ice Cream Month, too, and here's one way you can spoil your pup without spoiling her tummy.

"Can I just eat it already, Momma?"

"Om nom nom"

She heard Husband open the door, so she picked it up and ran so she wouldn't have to share.

Made with 99% lactose-free kefir, this is appropriate for those dogs whose tummies don't do well with wheat, which is in the popular commercial brand of doggie ice cream (or those other ingredients that you can't pronounce that you don't want to give your pup, either).

Cool-Yer-Paws Doggie Ice Cream

• 1 large-ish sweet potato, roasted and skin removed (give your dog the skin to snack on)
• 1 overly ripe banana
• 32 ounces full-fat plain kefir, preferably organic
• 1/2 cup coconut oil, melted (or, as we call it in Arizona, "room temperature")*

Combine all ingredients in a blender until smooth. Refrigerate until chilled through. Churn according to your ice cream maker's directions. Upon soft serve consistency, spoon into 1/4-cup containers and freeze until firm.

I suppose you don't need to churn it, but I wanted to give Zooey ice cream and not just a kefir-sicle, so the churning added in some air to the mixture. It has nothing to do with me maybe being a crazy dog lady.

As you can tell by the photos above, Zooey had no problem with the ice cream, unless you count having to wait for it while I took a photo.

*Coconut oil turns solid below 76°, but it doesn't fully freeze; when it's mixed with the other ingredients, it helps to keep ice crystals from forming in this ice cream so that your dog doesn't have to lick her tongue raw trying to enjoy her treat. This might sound like a lot of oil, but because even full-fat kefir doesn't have nearly the fat content that cream does, this will further help the consistency of the ice cream. The oil can help keep your dog's coat nice and shiny (it's great for itchy dogs), and the sweet potato will help keep everything moving in the right direction, if you catch my drift, while the banana makes sure it doesn't move too quickly.

Six

Yesterday was Zooey's sixth birthday.
Surely she didn't care about presents and fanfare, but HRH did, so after I picked her up from school, she convinced me to stop at the store to get party hats, candles, and a balloon.
Considering the day I'd had, I was only too happy to get my dog a birthday balloon if it brought joy to my little girl.
So, things I've learned:

1. Holding a phone, dog treats, and a party hat while trying to put a balloon around a dog's leg is not the smartest or easiest feat ever.
2. Coonhounds have no fear of eating a lit candle when said candle has been plunked into an easily accessible pupcake. 

Narrowly averting disasters makes any birthday party more exciting.
Thankfully, I did get Zooey and HRH to take a few cute (albeit fuzzy because kid and dog) snaps to commemorate the big 0-6 before letting Zooey dig in to her treat while HRH enjoyed a chocolate-sweet potato muffin.
Happy birthday, sweet Zooey. You're my running buddy and constant companion. I hope you live forever, because I can't imagine my life without you.

Her birthday present - the Kong Wobbler

"Give me the entire treat bag for this."

The birthday girl and her party planner

"Take the damn picture - I want my pupcake!"

Going...

Gone. Who needs to chew? Or breathe, really.

Do you have birthday parties for your furry family members?

The Kindness of Strangers

When I was young, kindergarten or first grade, a few local fire fighters came to visit my school and teach us a little about fire safety.  Instead of leaving the assembly feeling well informed, I was terrified and became obsessed with whether or not the smoke alarm's batteries were working and devising an emergency exit from my bedroom in the case that our house caught fire.

Fire continues to dwell in the recesses of my fears; living in Arizona means that the threat is omnipresent, and I often think that a house made of cinder blocks is a good idea.

So my heart aches this weekend when a fellow coonhound owner, someone whom I don't personally know but have met through a Facebook group lost everything in a fire, including two of his three rescued hounds.

Andrew lived in an RV, as he had until recently been a government contractor, so in order to have his dogs with him as he travelled for work, he sold his home and bought the RV.  His hounds, Claire, Herbie, and Sadie, went everywhere with him.  A few weeks ago, he lost his contract and is currently without a job.  He'd been giving his dogs his food as money started to run out.

Many people in this situation would surrender their dogs, but Andrew had rescued all three hounds, and was willing to sacrifice other things in order to keep his fur-family together. 

When his RV was parked this weekend, it caught fire, and Sadie and Herbie were lost, along with all of Andrew's belongings.  Andrew has burns on his hands, and Claire, his surviving hound, also has some burns and is on antibiotics to ensure that she doesn't have lasting smoke inhalation damage.  Both of them are heartbroken, and so is our coonhound community.  Sadie was rescued from a situation in New Mexico and transported to Andrew in Illinois through the Colorado Coonhound Rescue and Pilots N Paws.  As his children are grown, these three hounds were Andrew's life, and to have lost two of them this way, I just…well, there are no words.

Perhaps because this group of coonhound owners is populated, for the most, by those who have rescued hounds (Zooey is one of the few in the group who has had the same loving home all her life), those dogs who have been "thrown away" by others, we knew we had to do something.  Doing something in times of crisis is what we do, and so instead of rising up to save a hound from an abusive situation, we took action to help our fellow hound lover.

A YouCaring page has been set up to help Andrew and Claire with veterinary and other expenses, and in less than 48 hours, we have already raised over $1800.  The page is open until Valentine's Day, so if you have a few dollars hanging around that need a good home, please don't hesitate to click on the link and donate; I know that Andrew and Claire will be more than grateful for your donation.

In the long run, less than two grand isn't going to be enough.  Andrew needs a new home.  He needs a job.  He needs to be able to buy food for himself and Claire.  He needs to have a change of clothes (how many times have we all taken all our socks for granted?).  He needs to feel whole again after this devastating loss.  But we've started a process to help him heal, and we have not only stepped up financially but also to help shoulder the immense grief he is feeling right now.

I know many people who don't like to watch the news today because it seems like it's only bad news - the murder of a college runner, the continued situation in Syria, and more.  But whenever I hear this, I am reminded of The Art of Happiness, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama; in it, he discussed that the daily news cycle is full of "bad news" because it is still in the minority of events that happen each day.  Certainly it's too bad that more attention is paid to these happenings than the good that can happen, so it's up to each of us to carve out that good news we seek, even if it's in the face of terrible situations.

I can't put the sadness I feel for Andrew and Claire into words, but I also can't find words for the immense pride I have in these people I have come to know, all of whom have come together just because of our similar love for hounds.  It's a positive daily reminder that the kindness of strangers is something on which everyone should rely, as without that kindness, there won't be any other.

If you are short of money right now - you may be jobless yourself, or perhaps some unexpected expenses have arisen, and that's OK - your positive prayers, thoughts, and messages will also make a difference for Andrew and Claire; the more positive energy we can put out there, the better our world will be.

Herbie and Sadie, you will be so missed by Andrew and Claire and those who helped you live with the love that Andrew had to give you.  We will see you again; wait for us at the Bridge.

Herbie

Sadie on her "freedom ride" out of abuse

Herbie and Claire

Workout Wednesday - Back in Training

For a while, I've been toying with the idea of finding a full marathon to complete.  I never thought I'd actually WANT to do one.  But then again, I never thought I'd want to do a 10K, either, so there's that.
But with the 15-year marker of my dad's passing coming up in 2014, I kind of wanted to honor him in a way that I hadn't before, and I thought that running a marathon, by which I could also raise money for the Colon Cancer Alliance in my efforts to eradicate this cancer that took my dad from me, would be a perfect gesture.
There are just two things wrong with my plan.
The first one is that I don't really like the idea of marking how long it's been since he died.  I began running to honor the memory of his wonderful, albeit too short, life, so it would be almost hypocritical of me to make the jump to the full marathon in memory of when that beautiful life ceased.  And even my dad both joined this world and left it during the same month - October - I think that I'd be better off focusing my efforts elsewhere.  I'm thinking about something in 2017, which would mark his 70th birthday, instead.
The second issue is that I'm starting my masters, and I don't want to commit to any marathon until I'm done with that.  Being a full time parent, wife, teacher, and student will take up enough of my time, I'm sure.
But I haven't had anything on my calendar since Pat's Run in April except the CCA's Undy 5000, which is always on my schedule, and I wanted to push myself further again.  I've already decided to do the Lost Dutchman half marathon in February, even though my masters start date is (hopefully) January.  But that left my fall literally empty.
When I was looking for a 26.2 for next year, I was steered to the Peoria Halloween Marathon, which takes place the weekend right before Halloween.  It's really the only full marathon I was able to find in Arizona in the month of October, so it would have been perfect for my original plan.  But it also works extremely well THIS year for a half marathon, so I'm signing up for it, and training has begun.
I loved using the Marathoning for Mortals book (by John "The Penguin Bingham and Jenny Hadfield) for my first half marathon.   It made the distance completely obtainable, mentally, and I felt extremely well prepared to run the distance on the morning of the race.  But this time, I've opted to use Hal Higdon's Novice 2 plan.  This one was created for the runner who has run a race (or two, maybe) but isn't quite ready to make the jump to the super serious training expected in his Intermediate plan.  Basically, it's perfect for me.  I'd like to do better than my first time, but I also just want to finish and have fun while I train, too.
Of course, being able to follow a calendar is a skill that, apparently, is completely beyond my comprehension.  I thought, ALL of last week, that I was ready to start training this week with Week 1.
Then, all of a sudden, I looked at the calendar and realized I was thinking a week behind.  Technically, I should have started the week of the 4th.
Last week.  Not this week.
So, oops.
I jumped in to the plan on Saturday, running the 4 miles that were on the calendar, and it was fine.  Even though I took a week off running, those miles felt really great.  Since it's still ridiculously hot, I ran two miles with Zooey, and then dropped her off at home before doing two more.  I'll likely be doing something of that nature until it either cools down or forever, depending on her energy levels (I hate to admit that she's almost middle aged).  I was crazy tired that night, but I felt better Sunday, and I'm looking forward to seeing how this plan, which has me running three days in a row during the week, will be on my legs and body.
Even with these two races added in, I'm pretty sure I won't meet my mileage goal for this year, but I'm OK with that.  Considering that the first four months of this year, which are prime running weather months here in Arizona, I was sidelined by plenty of injury and illness, I'm going to plan on calling 2013 a win in the mileage column anyway.
I'm really looking forward to hitting longer runs soon, even if I have to leave Zooey at home for them (she didn't like being left home, by the way - she was barking at me as I left as if to say, "Hey! You forgot me!"), and now that I know what I'm capable of for the half marathon, I'm excited at the prospect of working on my pacing, etc., so help me become a better runner.  Hopefully I'll see everything come to fruition at the finish line.

Even God Rested

After shin splits, tendinitis, and strep throat this year, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to beat my mileage from last year.  Even my attempt at a month-long run streak was cut short (Thanks, tonsils.  Jerks).
In an attempt to make sure I don't fail my body (and vice versa), I'm trying a little something new this month.  I'm calling it the "Even God Rested" plan.  If all goes well, I'll be running 2-4 miles Monday through Saturday.  Sundays will be reserved for sleeping in and resting.
Note to self: spending all day cleaning and de-cluttering a bedroom does not count as "rest."  Plan for a nap in that case.
Before I decide on my miles/route for the day, I have to take into consideration the following:

• how much sleep I got that night
• quality of said sleep
• temperature outside

If I didn't sleep well or much, or if the temps are too hot, I'll stick to the shorter quantity.  If I slept well and the temperatures are tolerable, Zooey and I will trek out for a bit longer.  I'm hoping to keep my weekly mileage between 15 and 20 miles.
In some ways, that doesn't seem like very many miles.  I see people on Twitter who post that mileage on practically a daily basis, and here I am hoping for that much in a week.  But at the same time, it's hot, I refuse to put my dog in danger, and I'm not training for anything at the moment, so my miles are to keep me in shape (especially after that milkshake I just had - shhhhhh!) so that when I do start training again, I'm not starting from scratch.  Heaven knows I don't want to get hurt again this year.
Of course, I don't want Zooey to get hurt or sick, either.  In order to make sure that we avoid heatstroke for her, I take quite a few precautions.  Naturally, the shorter miles are a part of it.  If it's really hot, I hose her down before we leave, making sure to get her chest.  We take frequent water breaks (two of my four water bottles are reserved for her until I can find her doggie backpack again, at which time she'll carry her own water), during which time I try to check her tongue and nose (if her gums and mouth are red, or if her nose is hot and dry, she's getting heat exhaustion) .  We run more slowly than we do during the cooler seasons.  When we get home, I take a cloth that I've wet and left in the fridge while we were gone and apply it to her chest and belly while she lays down under a fan (I have a cloth for myself, too).  Once she's cooled a bit this way, I offer her an ice cube or two, which she generally takes.
When we do head out for 4 miles, I will even let her splash in the canal for a minute.  This is not something I will do on a regular basis, as who knows what sorts of disgusting things live in those canals, especially around all the duck poop.  But if it cools Zooey's paws off a little bit, I'm willing to let her get in for a minute before we shove off again.
My mileage for June was 52.5 miles.  I'm hoping to get over 60 this month.  Hopefully resting more will end up adding more miles to my tally.

What's your running/resting schedule?  Have you found that resting more helped you physically (or mentally)?

Streaker

If you've been a regular reader to his little hobby I call a blog, you'll know that I don't run without Zooey, my intrepid coonhound.  She is my constant companion on the roads and trails, and I hate having to leave her at home when I take off for a race without her.
But her being by my side means that when it gets hot, she gets hot.  And it's gotten hot.  We've already had multiple 100°-plus days, and some of those days have topped out at 110°.
Ick.
Yes, it's a dry heat.  You wanna know what else is a dry heat?  The inside of an oven, and no one decides to vacation there.
Annnnnnnnyway, in order to make sure that I can keep up the miles over the summer but also ensure Zooey's continued good health, I decided to start streaking.
No, I'm not running nekked - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (aka "the girls") would be all over the place, probably giving me two black eyes, if they didn't have support.  Plus we live down the street from the police station, so I'd probably have quite a bit of 'splainin' to do before I hit the first crosswalk (that would be quite the phone call home, hey?).  I'm just running every day - or nearly every day.  Think of it as a winning streak you can't lose.
Of course, I've decreased the miles on each run in order to make sure that I don't overdo it and end up with shin splints or tendinitis again.  I've been pretty careful, have added some new stretches, and just replaced my worn out shoes with my last two new pairs of my beloved Saucony ProGrid Guide 5s.  Aren't they purty????

I hope I love the Guide 6s as much as I love the 5s.

Some mornings are great.  I feel like I could run farther, even with the heat already starting to bear down at 5:00; we leave the house between 4:30 and 4:45, depending on how fast I get moving after my 4:15 and 4:15:01 alarms (the second one is Zooey making sure I'm up).  Some mornings, like yesterday, SUCK.  Zooey was restless until Husband got home, and he was at an event somewhat late, so she woke me up and then kept me awake with her pacing, whining, and having to go out to do absolutely nothing - twice - until he pulled into the driveway.  Holden decided he was going to sleep on my pillow, and while I normally love his purring, his subsequent decision to give himself a leisurely bath was, um... irritating.  HRH then got into the game by coming in around 2:30 needing a snuggle.  Normally I would love that, but I was already feeling so tired that I was dreading that alarm.
But I didn't turn it off, as sorely tempted as I was.  I got up, sucked it up, tied my laces up, and got out there.  Three miles later, I was ready to go back to bed, but I was glad I went.  Just like I always am.
The benefit of running every day is that I can be up, get my run in, and then have some quiet time to myself before everyone is up.  Or I can go back to bed for a nap, also before everyone is up.  The latter is generally my favorite this week.  But it's also allowed me to make time for some quick weight and resistance workouts for my legs and arms as well as ensure that I am continuing with my quest to do 100 pushups.  I kept on saying that I'd do yoga or other cross training on my rest days, but I found myself sleeping in instead; it seems so much easier for me to get up when I have to run (I only set my alarm on run days because Zooey has identified the alarm with "we're going running," and I don't want to have her howling at me to get her leash when I'm trying to do a set of skull crushers).  Now, I'm already up, so I have no excuse not to get that strength training in.
Thus far this month, I've skipped two days when Husband was out of town.  I suppose I could have run  when HRH was at school, but Zooey would have had to stay back, and once she realizes I'm putting on running gear, she works herself into a stage of excitement that Cesar Millan would probably tell me isn't healthy for her.  And we could perhaps have taken a quick mile around the neighborhood in the evening, but it stays hot well into the evening, and I didn't want to risk Zooey's paw pads getting burned on the asphalt.  And to be honest, it was only a week into the streak, and my body was grateful for the rest.  But by the time Husband got home and the weekend rolled around, I was anxious to hit the road again.
Yet another bonus - if I did my math correctly (always questionable), I should actually up my mileage from last month.  So if I can keep it up and bump up the daily miles just a little, I can make some good inroads in my goal to hit more miles this year than last, even with the injury breaks I had in the first quarter.  But let's not hold our breath.
For now, I'm hoping to be able to continue my streak until the end of the month, when Husband and I will be headed up north for a few days to celebrate our anniversary (we plan to do some hiking while we're up there, so maybe I'll count that).  After that, we'll have to see.

(Almost) Woofless Wednesday - My Baby's 5!

Sunday was Zooey's birthday; we celebrated by going for a 6-mile run, and after a nap she feasted on a dinner of turkey necks, sweet potato, and kefir with a sprinkling of olive oil.

The day we brought her home - July 2008

A wee pup and already with that naughty look on her face!

Just last week - my, how she's grown!

Woofless Wednesday - Send Help

Wordless Wednesday - Purr and Peace

Less is So Much More

My foot has been feeling better, so I decided to give cabin fever the finger and try a few miles out and back on Wednesday.  To my relief, the two miles were completely pain-free.  I'm hoping to be really back in the swing of things by Pat's Run in a few weeks.  If the doctor says I'm good to go on Monday, I'll be adding the trails back in to the mix next weekend.
I signed the entire family up for Pat's Run this year.  The Husband ran it with me last year (and to my dismay, ran it faster than I did with little to no training), but HRH went to the zoo with my mother-in-law.  This time, she's signed up for the kids' .42 mile run.  We're currently debating who's going to run the 4.2 miler and who will stay back with her.  I'd insist on being the one to run the longer distance (I was the one who signed us up, after all), but my foot is definitely a part of the conversation right now.
HRH is excited, to say the least, at the idea of going to a race with Mommy.  Even though she knows I come back from runs smelling like a goat a wilted rose, she wants to get out there with me.
So, the other night, we put on our gear, slipped the Halti on Zooey, and headed out for a run around the neighborhood.

It might not have been easy running with a 4YO
and an excited coonhound, but it was worth it!

At first, I figured we'd just run a loop - down to the last street in the neighborhood, around and back, but HRH wanted to keep going, so we made our way back by zig-zagging up the streets, saying hello to anyone passing by and taking frequent water breaks in order to stay properly hydrated.

In the end, we ran 1.12 miles, and by we, I mean just that - we both did.  HRH never stopped to walk or asked to go home before we actually got home.  And she had that big grin on her face the entire time.  I can't deny that I had a big, proud mama grin myself; this was the best, most fun, happiest mile I've ever run.

Until she went to bed, HRH kept commenting on our run: "That was totally fun, Mommy!" and "I liked going on a run with you!"  And five minutes after I put her to bed, she was out like a light.

And the next day, she asked if we could go again.

I'm not planning on taking HRH for a seven-mile trail run any time soon, but I certainly am going to start adding in more of these evening, 14-minute-mile jaunts through our neighborhood and perhaps at the park down the street.

Watch out, Boston 2030 - there's a qualifier coming your way!

Woofless Wednesday - TP Tracker

Woofless Wednesday - Craft Time!

Woofless Wednesday - Zzzzzzzzzz...

My Running Coach

There are so many reason I love my running coach.
She never misses a run.
She always believes that I (we) can run father and faster than I do.
She refuses to let me ignore my alarm and sleep through a run.
She's able to shame me for walking or taking a water break with just a glance back at me.
She isn't much into the small talk on a run and just lets the miles speak for themselves.
She meets the last mile of any run with as much enthusiasm as the first mile and then looks forward to the next run.
She understands the importance of rest days, too.
She doesn't care if it's raining or cold or windy or hot or anything - if it's a run day, then it's a run day.
She loves barefoot running but doesn't judge me for taking some time to lace up my shoes and ready my playlist.
She understands that the real purpose of running is finding the joy in each step, something she does from the first step out the door.
She has Frito feet and velvet ears.

This is my running coach:

OK, so she's not really a "coach."  But if it weren't for Zooey, I wouldn't be a runner.  She's one of those "high energy" dogs - even at nearly 5 years old - who needs waaaaaaaaay more than a 30-minute walk each day.  Once I discovered how much happier she seemed and how much calmer and (dare I say it?) how much more mellow she behaved after a good run, I knew I had to keep it up.  Thank goodness I love it!

When my alarm goes off at 4:30 on run days, I am barely cognizant of it, much less moving, before Zooey has sprinted across the room to my side of the bed.  If I don't move fast enough for her liking, she starts howling as a backup for that alarm.  My husband loves it when that happens.
I'm under her watchful eye from that point until the leash comes into play.  Have you ever tried to pee with an excited coonhound staring at you?  I have.
On our runs, Zooey has the ability to sniff new bushes and telephone poles, to bark hello at possible new friends (of the 2- and 4-legged varieties), and to get that much needed exercise.  I have the ability to have some me time, to listen to the music *I* want to listen to, and yes, to get that much-needed exercise.

That I credit Zooey with me becoming a runner makes me feel even worse when I have to leave her home on a race day.  Of course, many races are not dog friendly, so I'd be quickly invited to leave if I were to bring her to one of those events.  But those that are dog-friendly, and there are plenty here in Arizona that are, aren't necessarily an environment that will be good for Zooey.  She likes to bark - a lot (coonhounds are a verbal breed) - and that deep, loud chop mouth that I love so much isn't everyone else's cup of tea (just ask my husband how he feels about it at 4:30 AM).  Regardless of the reason she has to stay behind, I hate seeing that "poor, pitiful pup" look she gives me when it becomes apparent that the leash isn't coming out and that I'll be exiting through the garage instead of the front door.

This face very nearly got a steak to assuage my guilt.

Someday, though, I'm hoping to bring her along for a race - with her enthusiasm, she'll surely help me PR!
I'm so grateful that Zooey came into our lives; not only is she quite possibly the best running companion ever, but, like most scent hounds, she also just loves being with her people, making her, in my estimation, the perfect dog for our family.  She can go for ten miles with me (the farthest I've ever taken her) and then flop down to let HRH use her as a pillow during a multi-species nap time on the landing.

All she asks is for two square meals a day, plenty of ear scratches, and the occasional drink from the hose.

Coonhounds are not sprinters, even though they can outrun someone trying to chase them down easily; they were bred to track raccoons and similar quarry over many miles during a hunt.  This makes them ideal running companions.  I can go two miles or ten (maybe more - we haven't tried it yet) with Zooey, and she never lets me down.  Like me, she sometimes needs to stop and rest and maybe have a sip of water, and I must take into account the fact that she's covered in black and tan fur, but still, she never lets me down.  It's my responsibility, then, to make sure that I don't let her down, either.

(If you think a coonhound would be the perfect running companion for you, too, make sure that you research the breed (click here  and here for a start), and please consider adopting a coonhound from a reputable rescue group - and please feel free to ask me for more information)

Do you run with a furry friend?

Intervals

Hi, I'm Allison, and I'm addicted to trail running.

I started running the trails, as opposed to simply hiking, last fall, and I was immediately smitten.  The euphoria that getting in a workout on the trails is difficult to articulate; it's certainly not easier than my weekday runs along the canal, and there is always the threat of coming across various Arizona wildlife (though rattlesnakes are a more realistic hazard, last weekend I managed to terrify myself imagining being trailed by a mountain lion - I had some badass splits for that time frame).  But it's something that I absolutely cannot get enough of.  I even asked my husband for an annual pass for my birthday so that I can go to any of the Maricopa County parks to get my fix.
Last weekend, our trail at San Tan took us along about a half mile of a very loose, very sandy wash.  Zooey was enthralled with the smells of all the critters that had recently used the wash as a highway, and by the time we got back to an ankle-friendly footing, her nose was absolutely covered in sand.  She might have been ecstatic, but that loose sand were hell on my legs; my calves were on fire, and I had to stop and stretch or walk them out a few times, grumbling about my stupid choice of trail.
Then we reached the top of a hill.

If I hadn't already been out of breath (it was a steep climb, OK?), the view would have taken it away.  This picture just cannot do it justice.  As much as the triple-digit temperatures and the scorpions make me wish that we'd relocate to a more moderate climate, I cannot deny that the Sonoran desert is a strikingly beautiful place.

Go home, cactus; you're drunk.

When I don't look up, my view looks more like this:

There's really nothing cuter than a coonhound rump, but I especially like to bring up the rear in this instance because Zooey just knows the best footing, so I'm happy to follow in her stead if it means that I have a better chance of not tumbling down a rocky cliff.  Her enthusiasm on each incline is pretty darn contagious, too.  She keeps me going when I think I might not be able to crest one more hill or head down into one more wash.  She helps me be the tortoise to the hare of fear.

When I'm on the canal, I like to listen to a playlist set to random.  But when I'm on the trails, I keep things quiet.  Part of that is to make sure that I hear any sounds of impending danger - rattles, growls, mountain bike chains - but it's also so that I can fully take in the sights of the trails.  I have less of a chance to get lost in the music and can instead get lost in my steps, my breathing, and the rhythm of my body working with the earth.  It's grounding.  It's humbling.  And it's addictive.

Photo courtesy Saucony

"I am the Tortoise; Fear is the Hare" - Run for Ryan House Race Recap

This weekend was (finally!) my first race of 2013.  I had wanted to participate in a trail run a month ago, but I wanted my shins to feel better more, so Run for Ryan House was first on the docket.
Ryan House is for children what Hospice of the Valley is for adults.  It offers palliative and end of life care for children, and it also offers respite for families who might just need a bit of a break from the 24-7 requirements of severely ill and special needs children.  It's a wonderful facility that can offer families the quality of care that they need regardless of the situation.  My friend Christie takes advantage of Ryan House's respite opportunities for her daughter Sadie, and Ryan House is also where Lily passed away in December.  While I have had no dealings with it, Ryan House certainly has made an impact on the lives of my friends and, as such, an impact on my heart.  The least I can do is participate in its yearly fundraiser.
The event has a half marathon, an 10K, and a 5K as well as a 1-mile walk (participants can also walk the other distances if they so choose).  Initially, I had hoped to train for the half marathon, but after that overuse business back in December, I knew that I'd need to stick with the 10K.  Christie and Alicia were joined by Sadie and Alicia's son Jacob in the 5K, which they walked (check out a pic of all of us here).
Perhaps the most exciting aspect of this year's race was that this race bib was the first I've had that had my name on it.  It's the small things.

757 - I believe I can fly!

The race doesn't permit dogs, so this is the face that I left in the early morning; she knows something about making me feel all sorts of guilty:

Y u no takez mee tooday, Mom?

Fortunately, a kinder sight met me after I parked:

By the time I was at the starting line, the sun was above the hills.

Side note: buying arm warmers, even if I don't use them again until the fall, is the best decision I've made in a long time.  It was chilly at 7:30 when the 10K started, but by mile 4, I would have been too warm for a long-sleeved shirt.
The course was the same as it had been two years ago, starting off flat for like five seconds before The Never-Ending Hill of Horrors.  Two years ago, I had to walk part of the way, not having properly prepared.  This year, now that I've been making the trails part of my weekly routine, my legs were far less rebellious, and I completed the entire race without stopping for a walk.
My shins still hurt a bit into the second mile, but I focused my mind on a few words instead of the discomfort:
"I am the tortoise; fear is the hare."
I'd love to be faster or be able to go farther sooner, but I don't run to beat anyone but myself and my doubts.  While I want to be cautious and smart with my training, if I stopped to walk, it was only because I was afraid of something.  Fear was out front that morning, and I was lagging behind.
"I am the tortoise; fear is the hare."
After a while, I realized that I hadn't felt my shins in a while.  I'd kind of zoned out, but my shins didn't hurt anymore.  Unfortunately, I'd slowed my pace more than I would have liked while I was in that zone, so I picked up the pace from there on out.
I finished with a slower time than I did two years ago, but I finished feeling stronger and better than after that previous race, too, and the knowledge that I didn't stop to walk made the 7 1/2 extra minutes worth it.  Now that I'm a stronger runner, I can refocus on becoming a healthier one again, too.
I mean, heck, I even had the energy to take the most flattering self-portrait ever after I was back in the car:

Shexaaaaaaay!

So.  The Stats:

• Chip time: 1:05:26
• 136th (of women)
• 27th (of age group)
• 242nd (overall)

Next year, I move to the next age group, and I'd love to plan for the half marathon.  I am having some trouble finding a half marathon for later this fall, so it might be my next 13.1.  In the meantime, I'll continue my work on the trails, and yes, I'll make sure that Zooey isn't left at home too much.