I have a dog.
He’s a cute dog.
A crazy dog.
A dog with so much energy, I can’t run with him.
He wants to tear around the neighborhood at top speed. To run him, I have to leash him, get on my bike and let him drag me. And he will do this for over a mile, running as fast as his furry legs will carry him.
When I run, he sits in the dirt spot he’s made in the front yard, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He sits for forty minutes on my 4 mile loop; 60 for my hour.
Some days I do shorter loops, and everytime I round the corner I spot him seated just where I left him. Waiting for me to come home.
If I’m continuing my run, he barks as I go past. I figure he’s cheering me on, shouting in dog language, “Go mommy! Run!”
Although it’s likely he’s saying, “Milk bone! Milk bone!”
When I finish up, he sprints around the yard at his top speed, around and around the track he’s created: through the bushes, around the garden and back again. Once, twice, three times, depending on how excited he is (which generally correlates to how long I’ve been gone).
He is my biggest cheerleader.
Although sometimes I wonder if he’s internally thinking, “I could smoke my mommy! See! Look how fast I can run!”
Maybe one day he can be my pacer.
But he has to drop back in speed a bit before I’ll take that one on.
Just look at my boy go!
In racing new I’ve decided to do my first tri of the season in May. I am planning to do a sprint size at the Jekyll Island Turtle Crawl. I have to get back in the pool, though the last time I experienced Raynauds and am hesitant to do it before the air temp moves up a bit. May try to get in a swim today; watching the thermometer, though.
What are you racing this season? And who’s your biggest cheerleader?


music with each footfall, each strike of my heel. (Okay, I’m trying to run more in the mid-point, but you get my understanding.)
My body pushing hard, my lungs pushing harder, until I think I might collapse; but I never do. I’ve birthed two babies. I’ve run 26.2 miles. I am strong.
running tool I have. My brain tells me I can when I don’t think it’s possible. My brain understands that as I stand at the starting line full of self-doubt I will go out there when the clock begins and I will do it. Finish the race.

