My Training Partner

Today I walked a mile for the first time in 11 days. But I didn't do it on my own. I finally found a partner I can train with.

Molly is our ancient Golden Retriever. She came to live with us after a perilously long stay at the Lexington Humane Society. We don't know how old she was when Mrs P first saw her, but judging from her teeth, her level of energy, and her increasingly stubborn nature, she is about 83 years old. She goes at her own pace, and if you try to make her go too fast, or in a direction she doesn't like, she will fall down on her side and pretend to be dying. I swear I can hear her giggling under her breath sometimes.

Molly gets a walk after breakfast and dinner every day. Over the years, those walks have grown shorter and shorter as her joints troubled her more and my belly got bigger. This trend has had a pretty negative effect on our conditioning.

So tonight the weather was cool and the sky was clear and Molly and I started off on our walk. She was looking strong and I was feeling cooperative, so we just kept walking. We took a long route that we haven't walked for a long time. By the time we were done, we had gone a mile. We were both limping a little, but we made it home.

Two weeks ago I was worried about my time in a 5K. Last night I was writing about the glories of lifting hundreds of pounds of steel. Today I'm pretty pleased to have toddled around the park with my old dog in under an hour. And I've found a runner I can keep up with. It's good to be alive.

Peace,
Pennsy