4 minute read
Companions
BY ALLIE JOHNSON
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Apologies to all the groups and friends I have run with over the years but my dog is my favorite running partner.
I didn’t realize just how much I needed him by my side until he couldn’t run with me anymore. Especially now, in these uncertain times, when I am running (and running alone) more than ever. (Note: my dog, Jackson, is alive and well. He’s undergoing treatment for heartworm disease and is on an exercise restriction for the next few months.)
Jackson is a two year old flat-coated retriever, a teenager in doggy years, which means he’s a bundle of energy. Some days, the only way to get those wiggles out is to clip on his running leash and hit the trails around the Minneapolis lakes.
Our runs typically go something like this:
We start out at a nice, easy jog down the street. But, as soon as we turn the corner and hit the first downhill, Jackson starts sprinting, galloping really, his eyes wild and his long tongue flapping his mouth, flinging saliva everywhere. His perky tail waves in the air like a flag, a signal to everyone in our path that we are coming through.
I lean back against his running leash with all of my body weight to slow him and keep him from pulling me face first onto the pavement. By the time we reach Lake Harriet, our usual route, we have settled into a pace we can both be comfortable with.
It’s not long, however, before something piques Jackson’s interest and suddenly my body is being jerked violently off the path in search of a good smell or a tempting squirrel. With a few treats, I coax him back to my side until he is happily trotting alongside me once again and we continue on our way.
About halfway through our loop, Jackson starts to pull me towards the lake so we stop for a short cool down. He wades in and, since he’s tethered to me, I usually end up kicking my shoes off and going in, too.
Once we’re back on the path, the rest of the run is a breeze. If he wants to walk, we walk. If he wants to sprint, we’ll sprint for a few hundred feet. I let him stop to make friends if another dog crosses our path. Soon, we are home, never going more than five miles maximum.
Runs with my dog are never straightforward, but that’s a good thing. He isn’t training for a race, trying to hit a certain pace or log a certain number of miles. He just loves running around outside and that pure joy is infectious.
When I run with Jackson, it’s impossible to take myself too seriously. There’s too many bathroom breaks for that (speaking of, why doesn’t anyone talk about how awkward it is to run with a plastic bag full of your dog’s poop in one hand)? Too many forays into the lakes for a quick swim. Too many times where I’ve tripped over him when he stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk to sniff a good smell.
My dog is the running partner I turn to on days when running feels less like a hobby and more like a chore. He gets me out the door when, if left to my own devices, I would have talked myself into skipping my workout that day. Running with Jackson gets me out of my own head because I can focus on him, instead of on how tired I am or how many miles I have left.
Allie Johnson is pictured with her favorite running partner, Jackson.
It helps that he’s faster than me. He encourages me to pick up the pace, because nothing is more humbling that realizing what feels like a hard workout for you is barely more than a brisk walk for your dog. And, if I’m not feeling it that day, I can let him pull me along for a little while.
At the same, Jackson helps me keep the easy days easy. My runs with him aren’t meant to be hard workouts because I only take him with me when I don’t care about the pace or distance. I let him dictate how far and how fast we go.
Last, but not least, he’s my protector on those early morning or late night runs; the ones where I have to bust out the headlamp and his light up collar. Running in the dark alone can feel ominous. But with Jackson by my side, I feel safe.
I’m looking forward to having Jackson join me on my runs again soon. In the meantime, I’m heading out solo, trying to hold in my mind all the things he’s taught me and run like no one but my dog is watching.
