Here’s a new one.
Today, a kilometre into my afternoon jaunt, as I ran past a new gypsy encampment, four dogs ran out and surrounded me, barking angrily. I tried walking slowly away, and one of them, a pathetic Jack Russell, took the opportunity to sink its teeth into my ankle. First time I’ve had dog trouble since we moved here in 2002.
What’s a man to do? I didn’t fancy marching into the camp to complain, and no one would have admitted owning the dog in any case.
It was quite a nasty nip — broke the skin and left a bloody patch on my sock. Nothing for it but to limp onwards. A half mile later I was able to crank up again into a jog, but it wasn’t comfortable. It didn’t help that the route I took led me through an unkempt field. The long straggly grass was dripping with two days’ rain, and underfoot was soft and muddy. Miserable. I’d planned on at least 6 or 7 miles but I turned off early and got back in about 4½.
After a shower and some medical attention from Nurse M, I called the police who were surprisingly helpful, and took it all pretty seriously. Would I recognise the dog again? Would I be willing to visit the travellers’ camp and try to find the dog? Hmm. The idea of walking round the camp with a couple of uniformed police in tow, demanding to see their dogs didn’t fill me with enthusiasm. I’m willing to do my civic duty but the reality is that we’d have got no co-operation, and even if I was certain I’d spotted the culpable canine, I’ve no doubt that the owner (if anyone would admit to owning it) would deny that such an incident was possible. It would be my growl against his.
So it wasn’t the send-off I was looking for, a day before Week One proper of marathon training starts, but at least it was memorable.
A couple of instructions to self:
– Do long runs early. Whatever the distance, aim to be back by noon.
– Don’t overdo breakfast and end up flopping about for hours.
– Don’t over-prepare for a long run. The more ‘right’ I try to get things, the more certain it seems that something will go wrong.
It’s useful to don my philosophical cap at times like this. There are only so many bad runs available to a chap, and it’s good to get a couple out of the way at this stage, leaving the way clear for four months of trouble-free weekend loping.
And today’s Track du Jour? Towards the end of the fitful run, sandwiched between Hendrix’s Bold As Love and Franz Ferdinand, came Judy Garland and Somewhere Over The Rainbow.
That’ll do nicely.
