I am convinced this dog is trying to kill me.

Have you heard of the remedial running program called “Couch to 5K”?  Basically the idea is that, even though you’re fat and out of shape, you can start slowly and gradually work your way up, and in a couple of months, you’ll be running 5 kilometers in half an hour.

For those of us still on old measurements, that’s about 3 miles.

Of running.

So anyway, there’s a sister program, if you will, called “Pooch to 5K,”  designed not just for the slobby owner, but for the slacker dog as well.  It takes things a little slower, expanding the curriculum to 12 weeks to work up to running the same three-ish miles.

In light of my unwillingness to starve myself to lose a few pounds, I know that my only option is to start boosting my activity level. To that end, three mornings a week, my morning walking-the-dog has become our morning run.

Honestly, I feel healthier and more athletic just saying that. “Our Morning Run.”

I clipped the leash to my belt, and we did Day 1, which consisted of several sets of “jog 60 seconds, then walk 90 seconds.”

I did not die.

By Day 3, the dog decided he wanted to have some fun.

First, he started prancing around in front of me – LITERALLY running circles around me.  And he laughed.  I am not making that up.

I didn’t actually trip over him, thanks, I guess, to my inherent grace and agility.   That, or, more likely, the dog’s own athleticism.

Then he moved back to my side (where he belongs, after all), and it was great – just a girl and her dog, jogging down the early morning street.

Until he got this wicked gleam in his eyes.  I am not kidding; the dog looked up at me and said, “so, you wanna run together, huh?”  Whereupon he grabbed the loop of the leash that was attached to my belt and held it in his mouth.

First, he maintained a slow trot, and I just had time to think about how cute it was that he wanted to hold onto me.

Heaven help me, I even laughed.

Then he started running a little faster – still holding onto my belt.

And faster yet – I would say that if he’d been trotting before, now he was cantering.

I’ll admit – I can’t remember the last time I’ve moved that fast.  I was laughing so hard –  and running so fast – I honestly thought my chest was going to explode.

I’m just glad there was nobody there to see the spectacle we made of ourselves – me being led down the street at high speed at 5 o’clock in the morning, cackling like a loon, arms windmilling, sweat pouring off me as I’m sucking wind like, well, like the asthmatic fat kid I am, and That Dog, with his giraffe legs, dragging me along by the belt, smirking, saying  “how do you like the leash now, huh?”

I can hardly wait to see what Day 4 will bring.

Help me.

Categories: aging dog humor Uncategorized

Tagged as: diet dog fatty old's cool

kristinebryant