Out There: Running Is For The Dogs

Moxie has won again. Strangely, I’m okay with that.

Written by: Susan Lacke

My mornings almost always start out the same way. Before the sun comes up, I feel a moist gust of air on my nose. I open one eye. My dog, Moxie is inches away from my face. She looks at me. I look at her. She keeps looking at me.

It’s a staring contest I’ll never win. As I sigh begrudgingly and stretch under the sheets, I feel a thunk-thunk-thunk on the floor as she wags her tail. She knows she’s the victor. Again.  Strangely, I’m okay with that.

I originally adopted Moxie, a mutt of Border Collie, Cattle Dog, and Shar-Pei, from the Humane Society. I wanted a running partner. She wanted to run. When she sat down in front of me for the first time, ears cocked with curiosity at my running sneakers, one thing was obvious: we were made for each other. Her first day home, I took her out for a short mile jog to see how she fared. Three miles later, it was obvious I made the right choice.

And now, I have my daily ritual with Moxie. After the staring contest, I lumber out of bed and trek to my pile of running clothes. Moxie’s at my ankles the entire way. I look at the couch – my other dog, Doc, hasn’t even moved since the previous night. A chubby yellow lab, Doc couldn’t care less about what’s about to transpire.

Typically a silent and well-behaved dog, Moxie sits patiently as I put on my running gear. When the shoes – those shoes — come out, she lets her voice be heard. Any other shoes in my wardrobe are meaningless — but when I lace up the running sneakers, it’s a frenzy of barking, yipping, and jumping.

“Wanna go for a run, girl?”

She wags her tail, jumps, and barks. Did I really have to ask? It’s hard to be lazy in the mornings with such an enthusiastic running partner.

I clip on her leash and we walk out the front door. We begin a slow jog. She pulls ahead. I pull back on the leash. She pulls again. This tug-of-war continues for a couple of minutes until we finally set into a comfortable cadence. It’s a gorgeous day, and we follow our normal path, content to breathe in the fresh air and pound the pavement.

Moxie suddenly veers to the left. It’s a trail we haven’t been down before. Normally I’d resist, but it’s such a nice day, and I’m in the mood for adventure. What could possibly go wrong? I think to myself.

Anyone who ever thought that obviously never had Moxie for a running partner.

The rest of the run can only be described in one way: wind-hills-wind-wind-wind-hill-wind-(bleep)-that’s-a-big-hill-wind-wind-stray dog-wind-noMoxieno-hill-wind-rock-trip-fall down-go boom-ow-ow-ow.

I’m horizontal on the ground, my entire body wincing in pain. I feel a moist gust of air on my nose. I open one eye. Moxie is inches away from my face. She looks at me with curiosity.

“Alright, girl. Let’s run home.”

I feel her tail thunk-thunk-thunk on the ground next to me.

Moxie has won again. Strangely, I’m okay with that.

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Susan Lacke does 5Ks, Ironman Triathlons, and everything in between to justify her love for cupcakes (yes, she eats that many). In addition to writing for Competitor, she serves as Resident Triathlete for No Meat Athlete, a website dedicated to vegetarian endurance athletes. Susan lives and trains in Phoenix, Arizona with three animals: A labrador, a cattle dog, and a freakishly tall triathlete boyfriend. She claims to be of sound mind, though this has yet to be substantiated by a medical expert. Look for her first print column in the March issue of Competitor, and follow her on Twitter: @SusanLacke.