I decided to ditch the treadmill today and go for a run outdoors. I also decided to take Mac, which is not so much because I wanted to have a running buddy, as I couldn't handle the pouty-puppy eyes that stared me down as soon as I put on sneakers and touched the car keys. So, to the park we went.
You know how they say that pet-owners start to resemble their pooches after a while? I realized today on our 3-mile "run," that I might not LOOK like Mac (I could never be so lucky to master his perfectly sculpted eye-brows), I certainly run like him. To that effect, here's a look into Mac-a-Roo's mind for today's run. A thought-train which was reflected in my own mind with *almost* 100% frightening mirror-like accuracy.
Alright, it's go-time. Got my gear on (his running harness, so he doesn't choke himself on the end of the leash with his collar) and I'm READY. The weather is perfect, not too hot, not too cold, a little bit of wind, I'm gonna run the CRAP out of this run.
Check me out, other running path users. I know I look like a professional. I got my head in the game. I'm about to run like a Greyhound in a minute, just wait. Gotta stretch out the hammies walking briskly for a tick first.
Yes! Running! I'm RUNNING over here. I got this. I feel GREAT. I could do this forEVER.
Well, I could definitely do this for a few minutes.
...I can do this until that sign up ahead.
OH GOD okay. Okay. I made it to the sign. Let's just walk a bit, I am le tired. Good first push.
The decision to do "Interval-Running" instead of just a straight jog.
Yeah, yeah perfect. There are like people who say doing spurts of intense stuff is the best way to fat-burn, right? Right. I'll just walk until that bridge, then we can run by those kids, because they're loud, and that makes me nervous.
The Second Interval.
De-Gearing (I took off my sweatshirt and tied his harness into it around my waist).
So much better. See me shake off? That's how uncomfortable I was. It's 100% why I wasn't running to my fullest potential there. Next interval I'm gonna crush it.
Interval Number Three.
You see that dude with the punky little dog? He doesn't see us yet. We have to run past him, because we're better than him, and we have to prove it by running past him and around the bend until he can't see that we've stopped running. Then he'll think we've been running all along. We can do that. Yes. Here we go.
Haha, see the punk-dog is barking at me. I'm better than that. I don't bark.
OH MY GOD I HAVE TO POOP.
When we stop running no more than 10 feet after passing the punky little dog that "we are better than" so he can emergency-poop right there and force the poor dude with the punky dog to drag his angry pooch past us right after we *just* passed him.
I'm so embarrassed. I hope I don't fart. I always fart when I feel nervous.
When Mac audibly farts as I bend down to pick up after him.
How dare that man with the punky dog laugh at me. Or wait, he was probably laughing because he assumed that was mom who just ripped one*. As long as he's not laughing with me then.
When we turn around because we're certainly not going to follow the man who thinks mom just farted like a grenade after her dog dropped a deuce as big as his punky little dog.
Well, we probably ran like 10 miles already anyway, I mean, I feel like we did.
Interval number four.
Heeeey mom I feel great! Like a load has been lifted! Wait, did I toot again? Oh, no, there's just a hole in the poop bag. Oh, we're running to that garbage can up there? That's doable.
Oh, we're going to SPRINT to the garbage can before something falls out? I... I'm gonna hang back here at the very end of my leash and make people think you're abusively dragging me down this path.
When all the loud kids we ran past before start judging mom because she looks like she's heartlessly dragging her exhausted dog toward a garbage can.
Look how nice these kids are, mom! I wish you would pet me like they do.
Interval number five.
I don't even feel tired anymore, this is great. I bet we can do this for longer than any of the other intervals. Oh yeah. IS THAT A SQUIRREL?
Walking... kind of.
Noooo mom we left a squirrel back there! We must go back so I can smell everything, there may be crucial clues to how I can catch a squirrel!
Interval number six.
Wait, we're still gonna keep this running thing going? Like, half speed though mom. Seriously, I'm not even gonna break a trot - you're going to have to keep pace with me. Slow down. You know you wanted to slow down.
ROLL DOWN THE WINDOWS! We both smell like sweat and gross and we must let that smell out into the world so everyone else can know we made an amazing effort to run today!
There you have it. 3 miles later (maybe 1.5 of which we actually ran) we're back to the grind at home. Or at least I am, Mac is sleeping. Which is something I wish I was doing, because I am apparently exactly like my dog.
Do you have any similarities to your pets?
Tell me about them in the comments!
*You all know I am not above using bodily humor to get a chuckle here, but I assure you in this instance, it was truly the dog who ripped a fart, not me. No matter what the dude with the punky little dog thinks.