Fast, faster, fastest

I am not a naturally gifted athlete. Gee, I realize that’s such a surprise to everyone who knows me.

Having said that, running agility is about as much of a “sport” as I have ever played. I figure it’s a good run if I come off the course still vertical, without having done a face plant or butt plant or crashed into a jump or tripped over the chute or fell down just because I could.

With my previous dogs, there wasn’t much emphasis on speed. Connor and Jamie and I loped around the course at a mellow gait and got things done. I was totally winded by the end of it, regardless of how fast we went.

Then Phoenix arrived and the little issue of actually running surfaced. Phoenix ran. I ran. He ran faster. I was lightheaded and thinking I might pass out. I went to the doctor and said, “Why can’t I breathe?” She said, “You have asthma” and gave me a prescription for an inhaler. Ahhhhh. Better living through chemistry. Life was good.

When we’re on the course at a trial, I feel like I’m giving it my all: feet pounding, arms churning, muscles burning, sweat pouring, driving forward with as much speed as is humanly possible. I am a world class sprinter! I am speed incarnate! I hear “Chariots Of Fire” music in my head.

Then I watch the video. There I am, trotting along like I’m in an Easter parade. It’s like someone taped us in slow motion. This can’t possibly be right! But it is. My “fast” is not. It’s faster than I ran with Connor and Jamie (good heavens, I must have been WALKING with them) but it’s not nearly as fast in reality as it feels like at the time.

A friend and I were discussing this phenomenon over the weekend. It happens to her when she runs her dogs, too. She said her brother likes to shout encouragement to runners at family softball games to help them run faster. It goes something like this: “Unhook the plow and RUN!”

I love it. It is my new mantra.

Today, I am thankful for friends to laugh with.