10 miles, a drowning dog and a pint down the pub
Last weekend was eventful if anything. We were visiting my mum who'd now moved to a little village in Wales with my dad and their incredibly badly behaved dog "Ben". Monique, Harry and I try and visit around once every 3-6 months (it's a four hour drive there) and this weekend we were due to go.
We arrived Friday afternoon and settled in without any major issues, and must confess we totally pigged out on fish and chips that night but given I was due to run a 10 miler on the Saturday, I felt ok with that.
So I headed out on Saturday morning with a rough route in mind for my first every Welsh valleys run. Now before I describe it, for anyone who's never been to Wales, it's a bit hilly. The lowest point of my run was about 60 meters and the highest was around 280 meters. That's not so bad, but that's undulating, so I was doing a shed load of hill climbs up 45 degree inclines. Suprisingly though, that wasn't too bad. The countryside is incredibly beautiful, and the country lanes are nearly dead. I was passed by more tractors than cars (4 to 3) over ten miles of road, watched a herd of sheep being rounded up by a collie, saw some breathtaking vies of the valley and river usk from atop the hills and enjoyed freewheeling down them immensely. All in all, my first 10 miler in 2 years (well intentional) was very pleasant and took a respectable 1 hour 20 minutes. So near bang on 8 minute miles which over hills like that, I'll take any day.
After, Monique and I took our dog out for a walk along the river through lots of fields and even let the dog see some sheep. Obviously our special needs hound was on a long line, but he did brilliantly. We got within a few meters of sheep and while he had a think about going nuts, he held it together and walked very nicely. In fact the only screw up was his inability to work out how to get around the most basic of obstacles. When faced with a style to get through, there's dog holes at the bottom so they can get under, but Harry decided it would be easier to try and get through the middle beams, over the tops, anything but the easy route. We should have realised this might be his downfall later.
So at the end of our walk, Monique suggested something utterly crazy, taking the dog to the local pub beer garden and having a drink. Now Harry has never managed to be in the company of strangers without going a bit nuts, anyone who's met him knows that he starts off a bit nuts and mouthy, and as soon as he realises you/re not going to beat him (as a rescue dog, his natural assumption is that all strangers wish to beat him bloody), he's genuinely very affectionate and soppy. But he can't be gently introduced to everyone so usually pubs are a no goer. But we felt brave, and you know what? it all went fine, he sat quietly and enjoyed the sun while we had a drink. Simply amazing.
So onto Sunday, Monique and I had a lovely run up to the canal and I was so proud of her trying to blitz it up a near vertical hill and pounding out a 6k run despite a hacking cough and cold. She's a real runner now, just running because it feels wrong not to. Really looking forward to seeing her race on next weekend.
So to the main trauma of the weekend. In short, Harry tried to drown himself in the River Usk. We were having a nice enough walk with some family and their dogs, in total 4 dogs charging around. Harry's not too sociable, not that he's nasty or anything, but he's a bit of a loner who prefers to either play with sole friend or on his own. So while the other dogs were playing around,he trotted along playing with ball by himself.
Yes, my dog can throw a ball for himself and retrieve it to himself. I said he's a bit special. So he threw the ball down into the river and swam out, got it and came back, ok, fine, he then did it again, but this time in a sheltered bit where a tree had fallen down and was providing a little cove. So he went in after the ball and realised he couldn't get back up the bank straight away. All he had to do was swim to the left or right 2 meters and there was a shallow bank.
However, Harry took a different approach, he swam out to the tree, climbed up the tree and then out into the main river..... Yes the Usk is not a stream, it's a full flowing river where people drown and which is about 50 meters across and god knows how deep, and my dog decides to head out. Now he's not a great swimmer,, much like me he swims with a look of complete panic on his face.
Even so, all he had to do was swim to the left or right 2 meters to get round the tree and to safety, but no. He swims back and forth in four meter lengths along the tree for about five minutes, and then starts to turn to swim towards the opposite bank. At this point he starts gasping and really looking exhausted and I decided I needed to play hero. I clambered into the river, walking along the log of the tree which was submerged up to my waist and had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and throw him to the bank and then drag my sodden arse up the bank. Wearing the only pair of jeans I had with me, with my soaking boots and slightly damp i-phone, I walked back up the slope. At this point, a now recovered Harry began to search frantically for his lost ball before charging back to the river... Fortunately Monique grabbed him and stuck him on a lead for the wet walk home.
Yes, it's true, I cooked Sunday lunch for my mum wearing a pair of running shorts, I'm very glad Harry seems entirely unaffected by this trauma now, he seemed pretty shaky most of the day Sunday, but was back to his obnoxious self this morning on his walk. Let's hope he learns to work his way the easy way around in future, otherwise I may have to start working on my open water swimming.
