Tuesday, September 16, 2014

The Struggle is Real

This is Lucy.

Despite her demeanor in this photograph, being the hound she is, she has a lot of energy. This means, even if you're hungover, busy, sick, or lost a leg, you need to walk her. If you don't, she eats the couch. Simple as that.

Or your underwear.

Everyday, twice a day, Lucy and I trek through the neighborhood, usually around 2 miles. And if you can imagine her 2-year-old pup energy on a walk, it goes something like this.

For the record, when I said her name, she jumped up to give me kisses. This hyperlapse makes it look like an attack. And I suppose it was. It was an attack of love.

The usual sniffing of everything, greeting everyone, and pulling your arm out of socket when a small animal or other dog is in eyesight.

Her sixty pound body is pure muscle, and can drag me like you wouldn't believe. But, fortunately, for the most part, she's learned to behave on walks, sans when we encounter cats - they're her kryptonite.

So, most of these times we exercise, I take her for runs. This is a quicker way for her energy to deplete and it's fun watching her ears flop around. There have been times on our runs, that she suddenly stops in front of me, sees an animal and tries to run a different direction, or wraps her leash around my legs. And I have had the agility to dodge these potential life-threatening situations on my part. I suppose life-threatening is too harsh. Probably more like face-threatening.

This morning was no different. We sprinted passed the usual houses where she knows they keep the cats, and after a few stops to relieve herself, she trotted at my pace by my side. We were setting out on mile three when that sidewalk came out of no where.

I ate it hard.

I used the heel of my hand to stop my fall, but not long after my knee did as well. I laid on the ground as Lucy licked my face and looked at me like, "what game are we playing?!"

I had a sudden flashback to when my mom stepped in a hole at the courthouse and sprained her ankle. And my 4-year-old self kept asking, "Mom, what are you doing? Why are you rolling around on the ground?"

Sorry, mom.

An older man across the street came to my rescue. I was able to pop up, mostly surprised than injured. After assessing my health, the man said, "You caught your fall so quickly and it didn't look to terrible. In fact, it looks like you've fallen quite a bit in your time!"

I suppose being as clumsy as I am, I have experience recovering quickly from self-infliction. And now in addition to my bruises all over my body from MMA, I'm scraped up as well.

And after all that. After all the potential "eat it" situations I've dodged on my Lucy runs, as Jimmy Buffet would say, "it's my own damn fault."

I'm going to be the gnarliest looking old person.

Thanks for soundin' down. And be careful out there!