Running Companion

My dog is a mutt. He’s awesome. He looks like small-ish black lab with a sweet white blaze on his chest. He acts absolutely nothing like a lab, which is fortunate for me because I enjoy peace and quiet and don’t particularly enjoy (and touching slobber on) tennis balls for hours on end. He has funny ears that go straight out in triangles when he is curious about something, and he has an amazing Elizabethan collar of “froof”, which is a technical term for “his lower face and neck look like a raccoon’s.” His tail goes straight up and curls over toward his back, ala husky, especially when he is strutting his stuff, trying to look [extra] handsome or strong. He loves any toy his girlfriend (a golden) in Vermont sends him, and he definitely likes treats more than his regular food. One thing he truly loves is running. When you picture me training, as I know you do on a regular basis, you can picture Bruschi (yes, as in New England Patriots Tight End Tedy Bruschi, the coolest guy ever) the mutt sniffing and prancing alongside me.

For two years now, Bruschi has been my main running companion. The vet said to wait until he was a year old…but I only made it about 9 months. He’s such an adventurer; how can you look your adventure-loving dog in the eye, tie up your shoes, and leave him? Not possible. Plus, you can’t go wrong with a dog running partner, really. If anyone will push you to finish that route, it’s your run-loving dog. Your knee hurts? Too bad, he hasn’t pooped yet. Thirsty? Try drinking with your tongue only, insensitive jerk. Every excuse you can come up for not running with pales in comparison to shutting up and running with your dog.

I find him especially great for when I need distractions. We can make any run slower and more interesting just by sniffing footprints, yellow spots, turd piles, and roadkill carcasses (among other appealing things). We can also make any run go by faster simply by racing each other until we absolutely have to stop and walk.

Bruschi smiles, seriously, the entire time. You can’t look at his face and not feel good about running with him. When I’m super lazy and can’t even imagine going for a run, I pump myself up on how great Bruschi will feel (and how sleepy and quiet he’ll be later). I’m obviously a pushover and screwed when I have kids.