Unwanted sprints

It's late in the afternoon. The sky is clouded over. It's colder than it was during the afternoon. I'm hungry. I'm cold.

I don't want to go sprinting this afternoon.

I look down at Bella, who is snuggled under the blankets, and realize she needs to be walked today. Sleeping all day certainly doesn't help her disposition, and I can't stand when she wants to play play play and all I want to do is not play play play. I walk into the bedroom, open the closet door, and find my cold weather running clothes.

I put them on.

I still don't want to go sprinting.

Annie is mad at us, howling and barking in outrage as Bella and I walk out the door without her. She won't pee on the bed, as I've closed all the bedroom doors, but I worry about other mischief she could get into during her fit of anger. Bella tugs at the leash. She wants to run.

We make it to the corner. Traffic is bad. We walk down the street to the stoplight, and stop traffic with our awesome power of the crosswalk button. The wind picks up. I really don't want to be here. I have work to finish up, that project that just won't end. It's not getting done while I'm out here running.

We walk by a woman with her child. She looks at Bella scornfully. "I clean up my dog's poop, lady," I think to myself. We keep walking.

Bella goes off to sniff as I place the cones. Starting cone. 20 meters. 40 meters. 50 meters. I walk straight to the tree at the far side of the field. The wind blows again. I'm cold. My hamstrings ache. I don't want to be here. 90 meters.

I jog back to the starting cone, the only warm up I bother to do. Bella runs across the field to the far side. She has sniffing to do and has started doing it.

I run my first 20m sprint. I start off slowly, let my legs warm up. I jog back to the starting cone. I pull out my ipod. This workout feels lonely without Kris, without Gaby, without Jessica. The music swells in my ears. I don't like the song.

A woman calls out to me. "Your dog okay with other dogs?" she asks. Two Rhodesian Ridgebacks are pulling the woman forward, dragging her to Bella. "Yes!" I call out. I start my second sprint.

I jog back and look at Bella. She is unhappy. She looks at me. What should she do, she seems to ask. I wait another 20 seconds. I run my third sprint.

Bella is clearly unhappy with these two big dogs. I run over to her. She looks at me, then at the dogs. The woman lets one of her dogs off leash. It runs towards me. I bend my knees, lest I discover my center of gravity again. It misses me, but hits Bella. Bella is not happy. She walks next to me and leans against me. This is not going well.

I walk Bella back over to the cones, clearly this workout isn't going well. She stays at my heels, the Rhodesian running circles around us, barking. My ears hurt from the noise. I consider picking up Bella, but decide against it. We walk over to the starting cone. I start my next sprint. Bella doesn't move. I jog back to the starting cone.

She runs. She expects me to chase her. She runs the wrong way, away from the fields. I chase her.

I catch her. I bring her back to the starting cone. I run my next 20m sprint.

As I turn back to jog back to the starting cone, two golden retrievers come bounding up to me. I bend my knees again. The front one jumps on me, pulling my earphones out of ears and throwing my ipod on the ground. I push the dog away. The dog's owner comes up to me. "Oh. You're the runner," she says.

"The runner?" I ask.

"Are you training for something?" she asks.

"Yes. Pre-season fitness for my ultimate frisbee team," I respond, wondering if she knows what ultimate frisbee is. She looks at me blankly. Why would I care about ultimate frisbee? Why would I be out running sprints in the evening.

It starts to sprinkle.

The wind kicks up again.

"My team is a nationally ranked team. I would like to be in shape for tryouts." I explain. Her face lights up. She tells me of her student who is on the Junior Nationals team for ping pong. I consider this as impressive as a nationally ranked ultimate frisbee team. My face lights up. I tell her how impressed I am. She continues about another of her students who is an Olympic equestrian rider. I'm still impressed. "He's an awful cellist." I laugh.

I start my next sprint. I finish. I jog back. Bella is now too far away to capture, return and make my next sprint on time. I ignore her. I run my next sprint.

I see Bella heading off to the playground. I cannot ignore her any longer. I run after her. She finds this fun. She runs away. I catch her. I bring her back to starting cone. I run my next sprint. I have lost count. Am I running my seventh or eighth sprint? I don't know. I run it anyway.

Bella stands there, watching me.

I run back to the starting cone. This is fun, Bella thinks. She jukes away, spinning out of my reach. I chase her down. I drag her over to the fence. I tie the leash to the fence. I jog back to the starting cone, wondering when she will start barking.

I start my next sprint.

I run the next few sprints, watching Bella on my return jogs. She isn't barking. She's looking around, still investigating the area. I continue running, stopping, jogging back. My legs are working well. My strides are strong. My back kicks are high: I can kick my rear if I want to. My hamstrings are doing okay.

Bella has not started barking. I look at her. She is sitting down. She is watching me. She is waiting for me to be done.

I run the 50m sprints. I start my 90m sprints. My legs are tired.

It's dark out. The wind hasn't stopped. It's cold, yet I'm warm in my layers. My second 90m is hard. I jog back to the starting cone. I look at my watch. I ran the second one faster than the first one, as I have done with all of my sprints today. Each sprint is faster than the one before it. I am happy with my progress. I am worried about this last sprint.

I start. I pump my arms to keep my body moving. I lift my knees to keep my legs going. I pass the 20m cone. I pass the 40m cone. I'm still on my toes, though no longer accelerating. My legs are becoming leaden. I keep going.

I realize as I pass the 50m cone that if I'm at the bottom of the roster this season, it won't be because I gave up as I did last year. Instead, it will be because the rest of my teammates earned their places above me.

I intend to give them a run for their money.

I finish strong. I take a longer distance to stop and turn. I jog back. I pick up the 90m cone. I pick up the 50m cone. I have already picked up the 40m and 20m cones. I stop at the starting cone and put on my sweatshirt. I call to Bella. She is still waiting patiently, watching me. I undo her leash from the fence. I chase her around for a while, my legs too tired to run much. She senses this, and plays for a little while, returning to me after each run.

We jog home, using our awesome power to, once again, stop traffic.

We are that good.