First, let me say, I suck. I haven't been blogging, I haven't been running. My gym opening got pushed back, and it has been BLOODY cold up here (more on that later). So, sorry my followers, I am trying to get my butt in gear.
I thought I would jump back into bloggy world with an interesting example of how life sometimes forces you to get out there, and cross train in ways you never expected to, or really wanted to. This is the story of my day:
I wake up, dressed in my go to PJ's these days, which consist of one of my hubby's sweaters, and a pair of jogging pants. Comfortable lounge wear. I make my bed, and start sorting the laundry for my Sunday morning ritual of getting the ever-present task out of the way for another week. I sort everything out while my hubby, stepdaughter and devil of a Dog, Daisy, are downstairs. As a note, Daisy is a small terror dog we adopted a while ago from a local shelter. We love her, but she has some unsavoury traits we haven't managed to train out of her. She's a 25 pound Boston/Pug mix.
So here I am, in my jammies, starting to lug a big basket of laundry down the stairs when I hear a big THUD, and then my stepdaughter BAWLING, like I only hear when she's definitely hurt herself. I run down the stairs, expecting to find her bleeding or curled up in the fetal position, only to hear other words that I dread: "The dog is gone."
Yes, Daisy has the awful habit of being a Houdini and running off whenever she can. Problem is, she has no recall (or cares to ignore us) has no idea how to find her home again, and tends to gravitate towards people, who tend to be on the other side of public roads. We lost her once before, only to find her at the local 6! lane road, at a CAR ACCIDENT!
So, I freak. I throw on the boots, still in my PJ's, and bolt out of the door. As a note, the weather outside is about -5 Celsius (so 22 Fahrenheit), with about 3 inches of snow on the ground. I go to our back yard, and start frantically following her paw prints on the ground. I run behind all the other townhouses, until I think I have her cornered by a fence. Unfortunately, I didn't know that this back corner isn't a dead end, but instead leads to a small opening through to thick brush, a steep hill and a creek, before having another hill on the other side, and a 6 lane, 100km/hr highway on the other side. Of course, I think SHIT. So I have to cross this creek (in leaky boots, in my PJ's, to tail my dog, who is still running away from me. Brush is cutting into me, ripping my pants, giving me burrs everywhere. But I continue to follow the damn dog. Doing everything I can think of to lure her back. I call her name pleasantly, say I have treats, say I have a cookie, say I have her toys, everything. No dice.
At this point, I am a few blocks away from my house in thick brush, panting from exertion but soaked to the bone and freezing at the same time. Great combination, I know. I then see the dog go through another area, which appeared to be the underside supports and foundation for a house or a patio, which has about 2.5 ft clearance. I continue on behind her, doing my best not to whack my head on the wood above my head. Then onto more brush, more water, more pain.
FINALLY, I am exhausted. I can't run anymore. I start walking, and notice Daisy is walking too. She finally stops and sits, realizes she isn't built to be out in this weather, and calmly walks back to me. Success! However, I suddenly realize I have a BIG problem. I am physically drained, and need to carry my 25 pound dog back to my house the way I came, which includes climbing a steep incline with the dog in my arms, cutting through more brush, etc. I am so tired by this point I can't even walk for more than a minute without having to sit down in the snow, which my dog in my arms for a minute to recoop. Clearly, the situation is going from bad to worse. We are isolated, and I am getting very tired, very fast. I cut back to the foundation/deck, and convince my dog to walk while I hold her collar and crawl behind her. With a little more cross country trekking I am in my neighbourhood again. I am swaying, struggling to get home and not lose this dog, the bain of my existence once again. Granted at this point, I am pretty sure she wouldn't have the strength to run, as she is shivering in my arms.
I finally get around the corner and see my stepdaughter outside our house, and manage to yell to her to get my hubby. He comes outside, and I tell him to take the dog, because I can't walk and carry her one more step. I stumble into the house and struggle to catch my breath while trying not to throw up. I swear, at that moment I was more tired than I was crossing the finish line at my half marathon. I couldn't calm my system down; I had a headache, my body was trembling, my muscles weren't in my control. After a few minutes, a glass of water, a quick acting Advil and some new clothing, I managed to get things somewhat in line. A few more glasses of water and a hot bath brought me around even further. I was SO glad it was all over, and beyond the point of even being mad at the dog since I was so exhausted.
12 hours later, the dog is fine, but I am still feeling like my lungs are messed up. I take a deep breath launch into uncontrollable coughing, feeling like I am suffering from a lung infection that took hold the minute I came into the house. I am hoping that feeling will pass after a good night's sleep, and that I don't have freaking pneumonia for Christmas. What a present that would be?
Anyways, that's my entertaining story for the day. I guess I realize now I can run outside in the winter, but I am still opting for a treadmill in a nice warm gym, starting this week. Hopefully I will have an updated running schedule and new years resolutions in the next couple of days, for now, in case I don't check in before, have a Merry Christmas, and I'll be back soon!