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Saturday: 1/2 hour jog, tide too high (soft sand) but still decent compared to the sand here

Sunday: 2 hour jog, well-timed and nearly perfect except for the camber of the sand was a bit tiring after a while, and there were a couple of loose dogs.

Monday: 1/2 hour jog, even better timed and nearly perfect except for one rather memorable loose dog, once it broke free of a toddler's leg--more about that--

Tues: 3 hour jog, great weather (7-12 C), but back to the soft torn up pocked sand, liberally seasoned with leaves, pine needles, roots, branches, horse poop (but no snakes this time).  Some of the horse poop was fresh. 

Ok, Monday, we ran on the beach, and the sand was practically perfect.  Flat, firm, and not too many shells or loose dogs.  WHY DO PEOPLE LET THEIR STUPID DOGS LOOSE?  There are signs all over the place stating that dogs must be leashed.  I keep thinking I'm going to lose my shit the next time I hear "Oh, but he's friendly" or some other variant, or see that certain apologetic helpless smile: dogs, what can you do, eh?  Heck no, you're better than this!  Buy a leash!  It's not rocket surgery.

Anyway, without loose dogs to wonder about, I got into a zone, and then I saw a large-ish dog sitting with a small-ish kid on the beach, close to an adult surf fishing.  Uh-huh.  Let's see what happens.  I hoped the adult would notice and secure the dog in time.

Nope!  He caught a fish, saw us, but turned back to the surf, according to my husband.  I was preoccupied by the dog and its advance.  It probably weighed as much as the kid; it was no contest.  The leash was around the kid's leg, and the dog hit a decent speed and dragged the kid several metres before the leash slipped off.  Freed from resistance, it bolted after us.

My husband had our dog, so I intercepted the other dog and, after a couple of good pulls (how the heck did that adult ever think that such a small kid could match that strength?), it gave up, but not before it slid out of its collar.  Fortunately, dogs aren't always that observant--every time I've popped or slipped the collar off a strange dog, I've been able to get it back on before it noticed.  Same thing this time; I slid it back on before the dog bolted, and then I looked up, saw the bawling kid and the owner still fishing--it was a rather striking tableau actually.  Tears and ocean spray, one captive hooked by a bloodied mouth, the other breaking free.  I felt bad for the kid, but mainly ticked off because I was still holding this random dog and the owner (father? older brother) was apparently oblivious.  Perhaps he couldn't hear the screaming.  Perhaps he also didn't hear the words out of my mouth: "Come and get your fucking dog." Oh, yeah, oops.  You know, for losing my shit, that was tame.  I didn't even yell.  But I glanced again at the kid and felt exceedingly low.  At least he was too far away to hear me over his own wailing, I think.   The dog heard me, at any rate, and it sat down and gazed at me with beautiful sad brown eyes.  Sometimes, when I'm holding other people's dogs, I look into their eyes and see what looks like pleading.  Take me with you.  Take me away.  I wish I could, but I can't.  Not this time.  I'm sorry.  Finally, the owner grabbed it, said something apologetic, I replied, "it's ok", mostly to the dog, and we ran off, the kid still screaming in the background.  I guess that's a good dose of childhood trauma right there.  Fortunately they were absent on our way back.

Anyway, today's run was far less uneventful.  I met one other person, another runner, about halfway through our first loop.  I got excited because, even though I have no way of knowing what route a random runner will take nor even if they'll do a repeat, I want to beat them.  Even with fit guys (and there are a number of SF guys living here), I have to try.  Worse still, I was intending an extra-relaxing run, but I decided to squeeze some ping out of comfort.  Just a bit.  While I was back at the ranger station drinking out of a water fountain, she passed us and went back into the forest.  Yeah, it was still on!  I still took the hills lazily--I've been envisioning the hills lasting an hour apiece, in order to sink into the true lack of effort I'll need during a super long run--but I pushed on the nice downhills sections.

There are two, when I go clockwise.  One of them isn't the best, still some sand and roots, but it's decent.  The other is my favourite stretch.  Even uphill/counter-clockwise, it's pretty nice.  Downhill, though, it's a great mental and physical break.  Pea gravel and dirt, gentle undulation, very few roots...even the snakes like it.  Yeah, I've seen the most snakes on this stretch, including one of the copperheads.  The trail had more dead leaves on it this time, and so my first pass was rather hesitant and a big downer because I was deprived of the best part.

However, on the second loop, I was on to beat the other runner and, as I approached the lovely snake stretch again, I remembered something I've learned recently thanks to an assignment: the appropriate antivenom, CroFab goes for all pit vipers.  This is a great relief!  Honestly, I've been a bit concerned about getting bit, failing to study the pattern adequately, and getting injected with the wrong antivenom.   Nope, turns out that all the poisonous herps here are pit vipers, and pretty much all of the harmless ones are black.  Surely I can hack that.  It's not rocket surgery!

With that reassurance, I tore through that section.  Wakey wakey, Snakey!  I figured if I went fast enough, I would--actually, that's a really lousy attitude for avoiding predators, but it works great for picking up speed and a bit of a thrill.

But we didn't see the other runner at all!  I was beginning to wonder if maybe she'd gotten bit instead, and we'd find her and run back to the ranger station and ask them to call an ambulance and rev up their four-wheeler or whatever their SOP for snake bite victims is.  I think I overthink things but, honestly, running here is really, really, boring; I'm not into nature that much.  Some weeks, my highlight has been reencountering the "Library Viking" guy (sadly, I haven't seen "Serious Green Shirt" guy or "Shirtless Zen" guy (who actually won the ultra last month here) in a while).  I prefer urban rec paths because it's more interesting seeing a bunch of other people than trees and horse poop--actually scat can be intriguing, but I rarely see anything here but horse poop.   There's no mystery in that.

We didn't get bit, we didn't see the other runner again, but I still felt a bit amped up so we did a third loop.  52, 47, 51 minutes.  Total jogged just over three hours.  No walking except down a short steep stretch that always makes me stumble unless I walk (it's a bunch of closely-packed roots covered with pine needles and then a few stairs, and I've failed to find a good line through it).  This was decent though still easy run--I wanted to run relaxed for a while to get my body primed to soak up whatever it needs to soak up in prep for the ultra this weekend. 

And now it's time to eat sensibly and rest.  I'm undertrained but in decent shape.  My guts are better now and the only weird glitch I seem to have is a pinch or something in my left hip (it happens when I squat or lunge with poor form: muscle and the hip bone have a bit of an altercation, and the hip bone wins).  Funnily enough, I also rammed that exact area into the sharp corner of our counter earlier this morning.  I am kind of bouncy and I get hurt in the house more often than outside it because of the corners and stairs and doorframes and so on.  At least I don't have stairs in this place--two of our former dwellings didn't have enough clearance above stairs and I used to hit my head--and I'm short!  At any rate, I have to tone it down for the next few days.