The mountains bulged roundly out of the ground like a pair of stretch pants. The air was dry, but a different dry than the sharpened and clean dry of the desert. This was a sticky, rustling, itchy dry.
"This sure is beautiful, isn't it, Mom?" I asked. I wasn't quite sure if it was beautiful, so I was hoping she'd tell me. These mountains didn't do all the inspiring gymnastics of the really tall mountains that blocked the desert. They were kind of nubby, and their only trick was to trip and fall right into the ocean with a little splash.
I understood why a runner would want a buddy if they couldn't smell their way around a marathong course, but I didn't understand why there weren't a ton of other people fighting over who got to visit Michigan.
"No!" Mom said slowing down like she wasn't sure whether to start running or fall on the ground herself. "Nononononono!" she groaned. Dr. Remy's Dad handed Mom Remy's leash and started running toward the man. Remy and I could tell that the humans were scared, so we were scared too. Mom's movements slowed down even more until she froze, and so for now Remy and I froze and waited for something to happen.
Once upon a time I started telling stories about my runs because I thought that humans worried too much and made things more complicated than they needed to be. I wanted to remind them that running is just a fun way to explore the world and hang out with the running buddy you love. But... Continue Reading →
She reached into her dirty running clothes from the day before and pulled out her lemony grey sports bra with the dinosaurs on it. "This will work!" she said. "Eew, it smells," I said as she pulled it over my head and started to force my paws through the holes where her front legs usually go. "And it's wet."
Today there were runners just like always, but the stray humans were awake, and the workers had been replaced with tourists waiting for the boat to Alcatraz and asking each other if the bridge was being painted. The tourists lined up across the sidewalk like bowling pins for me to run through them and cause selfies they would never forget.
When Mom wasn’t hypnotized by the Bahama-colored lake, her eyes were fixed on the mountains, trying to puzzle out how someone as scared of heights as she is could still climb all the way to the top. Meanwhile, I chased critters over rocks and logs with the grace of a hurdler.
“What is the difference between rock climbing, and mountaineering, and hiking? Like, if you wanted to climb that mountain up there, you’d have to get up all that scree.” She pointed at one of the steep fangs, and the thick gums of rocks and sand at the bottom. “Well, you’ve got to do your research. People will post what approaches are loose or dangerous, and what routes are safest and so on.” “Well, what if you were on the right trail and you slip anyway?"