dog, that was hard.....

well it's now Tuesday and I think the Master is doing rather well considering. However, I know he's on a tight schedule but trying to make up missed training sessions by cramming more in, just doesn't work. Except if you are a dog. Since he isn't, he's pretty foolish. A 9 mile jog around Virigina Lake on Sunday seems to have helped his mind, but not his body and a very hard squash game yesterday only exacerbated it. Taking on not just an opponent, but the squash wall itself was, in hind-sight a bridge too far, and two butterfy stiches and a very sore head, are testament to that fact. Sunday's run unearthered some interesting thoughts for the Master though. Firstly, why is it that no matter how elegant and svelte-like a runner thinks he or she is, there's nothing quite like cathcing a reflection of oneself to realise how much of a lardy one really looks to other people. This is most apparent in a gym when on a treadmill apparently. Secondly, how is it possible for the human body to do 5.5 minute miles, one after another and still end up giving completely compus mentis interviews the monment one crosses the finish line, a la Paula. It amuses me because, having four legs, I can cover a mile in way less than two minutes, but usually there's something worth sniffing so I rarely run in a straight direction.
I suppose that timing is all about elite training - a stage the Master will probably never ever experience.
Keeping the miles ticking over was a process eased by the accompanying tunes. This time out we had the rather underrated and a little maligned Velvet Revolver - Slash's new band which emerged from the ashes of Guns n' Roses. Their pile-driving rock music was probably new to the British public when they took to the stage at Live 8 in Hyde Park in July last year. Unfortunately they didn't do themselves any favours by playing three new tracks when most of the audience would have wanted to at least hear a good old G n'R tune, like Sweet Child Of Mine. Perhaps they legally couldn't. Still they were pretty good despite the lukewarm reception.

Nipple rash

No you haven't stumbled onto a dodgy blog where you need to look over your shoulder to see who's noticed. We are talking here about one of hazards of running, especially in the cold. Fortunately, being a dog, it doesn't really bother me, but it does seem to be an issue for the Master. We went out last Tuesday on a rather dark and dank evening and did the usual 5m. That was all fine and dandy but the old fella did complain afterwards about the after-effects of said nipple rash. Easy to avoid. Simply apply petroleum jelly liberally. Alternatively if you are female or a fella with man-boobs (I hereby declare that the Master does not have these), then a good sports-bra should cut it. We also went out today for a brief 40 mins or so around the park. Music over the last couple of runs has tended back to the familar - Bloc Party (again), Aerosmith (again), u2 (once more) etc. Time to play some new tunes so look out for that over the next couple of posts......

Pushed it too far I think

Well it's been a week since I met up with my German Shepherd buddy and I was half-expecting a rendez-vous today. According to the Master, the long weekend run is the cornerstone of one's training regime - although all the evidence so far points to the contrary, unless one considers 5 miles to be a long run. Anyway he was murmuring something about going up to the forest again, especially when he saw my buddy's master on Friday night. Anyhow it turns out that yesterday the Mistress squirted some sort of liquid deep into my skin below my collar. I thought nothing of it really, it happens ever couple of months or so. Well apparently it is to keep fleas off me. As if I'd be home to fleas anyway! what cheek. (I reckon I am as clean as the Master is. I don't think he's quite up to the cleanliness standards of the Mistress - at least that's what quite a lot of the arguments in the house seem to be about). So because of this defleaing liquid, I apparently couldn't get dirty for 48 hours. Well the Master became a little petulant about it but to no avail, we were not allowed to go up into the forest, especially as he never really cleaned me properly last weekend, and it was duly noted. Therefore I found myself being invited to a road run around some pretty villages in Berkshire. Well I say 'pretty' but to be frank, it was so foggy this morning that the Master could barely see 10 yards in front of him. Fortunately I have extra keen eyesight and I caught sight of one Master with 6 greyhounds, all muzzled up about 40 yards away. Well my Master has problems controlling one Border Collie so I was curious as to how the other chap managed. I barked a couple of greetings but they were pretty snooty dogs and turned their hind-quarters on me. Well I only give a dog one chance. That was it. I tugged extremely hard on my lead in the hope that the Master would be taken by surprise. Unfortunately I think he is getting wise to me now and held on for what must have been grim death. The Master with the 6 greyhounds shouted something at my Master but since he permanently has his headphones in I don't think he caught it. It didn't sound friendly though. We ran through the pack of dogs and I tried to take a bite out of one of them, but they were too quick. There was lots of barking and shouting, and I think I mixed it up pretty well.
The rest of the run was a bit mundane, although to be fair it was pretty hilly. I think we did about 8 miles which was a bit of a stretch for the Master. Lugging 14-odd stones around country lanes appears to be a tall order for him.
Music: Today's backdrop to the run consisted of 3 classic live band cuts. There was a live Aeorsmith album the name of which escapes me. The thing about Aerosmith is that they are not a poor man's Rolling Stones, as once thought, but they are more of a Madiera Cake to the Stone's multi-layered Battenburg. That is to say, you know what you are going to get; it doesn't vary much, but it is very good. That was followed by Rattle and Hum, U2's rather maligned and oft-ignored post-Joshua Tree album. It is a live one of sorts. But the thing is, the producers have cut out a lot of the audience interaction; cheering; clapping etc and therefore it makes it an odd sort of live album. Not one of their best and it is surely time for another live album from U2 to hit the streets. The final album in the triplet was the Live After Death from the mighty Iron Maiden. Absolutely fabulous to run too. Especially The Trooper, which has a great beat to keep one's legs from moving inthe right direction.

Bobby Moore - It was a heartbreaker

The slightly altered words of Rod Sewart in "Maggie May" - "The Morning Run when it's in your face really shows your age" ring true for the Master this morning. 5:30am, it's dark, not another dog about and he's wearing that head torch and daglo lycra jogging pants again. He looks such a lemon. Maybe that's why we're out at this early hour - to avoid total embarassment. I am almost ashamed to be seen with him; but then again, 50 minutes out, stretching my legs - I'll take the humiliation if anyone sees us. One thought that seems to have been running around the Master's head today is that of Mr R Moore, ESQ, England's most famous and celebrated Football (Soccer) captain. He, of course, lifted the World Cup in 1966 - the proudest moment in a proud career. but this was a man who was a fitness fanatic; didn't smoke, ate well, didn't overinduge in alcohol and of course spent his life exercising. He was often out for a run at 5:30am (which was the thought that prompted these musings) and continued his fitness regime in his post-playing days. Take a look at the shirt swapping picture with Pele at the 1970 World Cup - a physique most 30 year old would be proud off. And yet, despite the relative abstemious lifestyle and fanatical fitness regime, Bobby sadly passed away from bowel cancer aged 51. The Master was musing on this and wondering whether it really was worth the effort of trudging the streets at such an ungodly hour, even before the dawn was even thinking of making an appearance. But he decided that it is about awareness of one's body and being able to catch such horrid diseases early, and to use it as a reason not to exercise was fallacious. In fact, so preoccupied with these thoughts was he that he paid little attention to the soundtrack of the run, AC/DC's If You Want Blood, You Got it - the classic Bon Scott vocals and the Youngs driving power chords and full-pelt lead runs - surely one of the greatest live rock n' roll albums of all time. Talk about auditory masking. Riff-Raff and Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be could both be easily used instead of anasthetic.

Post-America Run

Well the Master has been away on business for a week and so my running had basically stopped. However he reappeared on Saturday and I thought I'd been in for a really long and muddy run - but none of it I'm afraid. A gentle walk through the fields was all I got. That's actually all I had last week with the Mistress. Pathetic. Still, he made up for it yesterday. We went up the Forest again but this time, prearranged with my German Shepherd mate. Did we have a blast, or what? I found some foxes' doo-da and rolled in it. Then so did my mate and we ran off in the woods. It didn't seem to matter; the Master was regaling his running partner on the merits of Achor Steam beer over Heinekin Lager and the best way to win at black jack in Vegas. He wasn't interested in what we got up to. I got so muddy that when we got back after his 5 miles (about 25 for me) he wouldn't let me get back in the car until he'd thrown five buckets of water over me from the tap at the cafe nearby. Even so it barely dented the surface and so I had to serve my pennance back home, with a very lengthy scrubbing session with freezing cold water and that dog shampoo that smells sickly, and believe me, tastes even worse. I'm then shut away in a room to dry off for a few hours. I'm a bit like a cake really. When I'm finally done I'm let out, ready to please and entertain as always.

short days, short life?

Running is one of the easiest, cheapest and most instantly gratifying forms of exercise available. Slip into your lycra, put on a pair of running shoes and head out the front door. Before long the adrenelin kicks in, your muscles ease up and the cares of the day are blown away. But for many people who have fulltime jobs the problem is doing this safely. Waking up in the dark and then returning from work in the dark is not only a bit depressing but a real limiting factor when it comes to where and when you can run. Unless you can get out whilst at work you are left with the only option of running in the dark, unless you want to head to a gym or track. The real attraction of running is the lack of preparation required and the 'do it anywhere' dynamic. To head off to the gym requires time and effort as well as the obvious need to belong to one. So, for many it is an hour running the roads and then it becomes a battle, not just to run hard and with purpose, but also to avoid behind hit by vehicles. Keeping to lit pavements is feasible for some people but for many, especially those in rural areas, running in the pitch black becomes a regular experience. "Make yourself be seen" is an obvious requirement and there is lots of running clothing that makes this possible. Running with a head-mounted caving lamp is a good way of both seeing where you are going and also being seen by drivers. Obviously the critical point is to be seen and therefore if a vehicle has it's full beam to achieve that, then fine. But what is most irritating is the drivers who, having seen you, do not dim their lights but continue past with their full-beam on, blinding you as you stumble on. They dim them for on-coming traffic so why are pedestrians, albeit ones running, not afforded the same courtesy? Most drivers are considerate and once they have spotted you in the distance, do dim their lights and make every effort to move out to pass you without placing your life in danger. But it only takes one inattentive driver and before you know it, you are subject to a very close shave.
During a 5 mile end-of-day loosening-up run last night, the Master came very close to being knocked down. Fortunately for him my significant smattering of white fur is an additional reflective point and I am sure it helps on-coming drivers spot us. I need to do somethng though about his habit of putting me on the offside rather than inside. He says it is to give me more freedom to move about, but I reckon it is a form of self-defence.
So, to sum, in order to reduce the risk of the short days leading to a shorter life than you were planning, run as much as possible under street-lightening; wear a cavers torch and reflective clothing, oh, and if that is not enough, run with a large white dog!

In case you are wondering.......

Hi, I realised that you may be interested in my background.
My father was a Crufts Obiedience Champion six or seven years back and that was what was expected of me. But I apparently have a lazy eye (according to the dog experts) and am therefore untrainable to that level. Nevertheless in the hands of good trainers I probably could have cut the mustard. Weaving in and out of agility sticks, following scents and executing impressive fly-ball manoeuvers could have been within my grasp. But, I was cruely excluded from the training programmes and put up for adoption.

Fortunately the two dozos that own me now are as soft as my coat and I pretty much get my own way. They have little idea on control and as long as don't leave hairs in the house and keep the master company on his runs, they seem easily pleased.