Week 8 Part 1: Ups, downs and an almighty crash!

Well this week Mum has been happily training again.  She has been most enthusiastic.  Mum has decided to forget about how fast she used to run, and just train as well as she can while shovelling in a fistful of frankly deliciously tempting looking little tablets which she doesn't even let me in the room with.  The tablets are making Mum feel better again, her blood pressure is going back up, her iron levels are going back up, her mood is also going back up.

This week Mum's plan was to do just 22 miles, only 8 more than last week, but to run a lot harder.  "That's it, Mum", I said, while I dozed in front of the fire, "put a bit of effort in, and please go the horse poo route because I've not eaten any in days."

Then it got icy.  I love the ice!  It's fabulous.  I have never seen ice like it.  The ground was actually totally white and it tasted and smelled different.  I re-sniffed everything I've sniffed before, barked at it all, and chased my tail round in circles in excitement.  Then I remembered my favourite Stinky Mr Otter toy.  Mum has declared that Stinky Mr Otter needs a wash so I have been hiding him in the garden where his stink is safe from the evil washing machine.  Something had happened to Stinky Mr Otter in the cold.  Instead of being soft and slimy, he went stiff and hard.  I picked him up and threw him and caught him and then smashed him into the patio a few times, but he was still stiff and hard.  This was so much fun I forgot he wasn't meant to come inside and I brought him in to show Mum.  Mum seemed less fascinated, and put him in the washing machine.  I drooped my ears.

Mum likes looking at the ice, and walking on the park, but running on it makes her nervous; Mum is very paranoid about her ankles.  Mum decided to do her first run of the week on the treadmill.  Mum did a very hard interval session, uphill, and was feeling mightily pleased with herself.  "Wufflestuff", she said afterwards, "I worked so hard I thought I would be sick".  I don't understand why this is a good thing, but apparently it made Mum quite proud.

Mum put her run on Strava, because everyone knows that if it's not on Strava it didn't really happen, and I looked at it and felt proud too.  Mum's heart rate said she had tried really extremely hard.  "But Mum," I said, "why did you leave a little gap before your last interval?"  Mum mumbled something and I had to ask her to speak up.  "I missed the jump off the treadmill," Mum mumbled again.  Mum then went on to mutter about muscle memory failing her, and not understanding why she decided to jump off to the right when she's only ever jumped off to the left, and her legs getting all confused and tangled.  My legs are always growing so getting them tangled is quite normal to me.  Mum said hers have had a while to sort their shit out so they aren't meant to do that any more.

Luckily, Mum said, she landed right on the floor between the two treadmills, and did not bugger up her ankles.  Mum muttered something about irony.  When she walked back from the gym it wasn't even that icy.

Mum decided her second run of the week had to happen outside.  It was more than a bit icy when she set off but Mum was determined to just manage and be careful.  Mum said the ice melted as she went along so she got quicker through the run, but just before she finished a sneaky black ice puddle sent her skidding several feet while shouting bad words before she saved herself by catching a tree.  Another bullet dodged there by Mum, ankles still fine, and Mum said no more running until the ice had melted.

Mum was by this point ridiculously pleased with herself and off in a little dream world on our afternoon walk when a very bad thing happened.  A big dog ran up to a gate and barked at me and it scared me.  It scared me so much I needed Mum to protect me and I dived at her feet making my "I need you Mum" noises.  Mum tripped right over me landing with a big thump on the floor.  Mum's glasses flew off and she went very green.  What had this naughty big scary dog done to Mum?  I snuggled close to Mum and licked her face and picked her glasses up for her.  I made more loud help us noises and a man came running out the house with the naughty big loud dog and he stole Mum's glasses from me.  Then he dragged me away from Mum.  What a terrible house with terrible people!  Mum still looked green but maintained she was fine and we walked home very slowly.  I stuck super close to Mum's feet the whole way.

Mum says her knee will be OK, and it's just bruised.  It is certainly an interesting colour and she keeps limping a bit and wincing when I lean on it to show Mum I am here for her.  Mum has decided that irony has a lot to answer for.  I decided I should maybe feel bad for tripping Mum up and looked sorry and drooped my ears.  She fed me cheese.  I decided I should look sorry more often.  Mum has decided her knee will feel OK by parkrun on Saturday, and she is doing the remaining 10 miles this week.  Mum has decided she may need a glass of wine this evening, as none of these miles are to be run tomorrow.

Just a reminder that Mum is determinedly trying to break herself in aid of Vizsla Rescue UK, a fabulous charity that finds humans for very needy Vizslas to trip up and scrounge cheese off, Vizslas who would otherwise have a very different and sad life.  We are very silly, but the charity is not, please do donate if you can!

I am really very sorry, Mum.