Cut Short

I had to cut my run short today, because of some -- um ... intestinal distress. It turned out to be not too bad, nothing really happened, but I was at one of those "points of no return," the kind of place where, when you get to it, you can cut the run short, or by continuing, commit yourself to a longer run. the spot probably wasn't really one of those spots, but it is for me, since I'm still not all that familiar with the neighborhood.

As if I wasn't tense enough at that point, shortly after I made the turn, I was jogging down a quiet, predawn residential street, and I suddenly heard a large dog bark at me, and I could hear it kind of "bounce off" a metal storm door.

Update: The All of the following paragraph refers to the time I was actually attacked by a dog. In case somebody reads this, I wouldn't want them thinking that I filed a complaint over just barking.

I've been attacked by a doberman before, so large unfamiliar dogs do kind of unnerve me. I was on the sidewalk, across the street from the house where the doberman lived. I filed a complaint against the dog's owners and I was the third person that week to do so. The people had lived in the house less than two weeks, and their dog had already alienated most of their neighbors.

People who don't know how to care for dogs shouldn't own one.

The following paragraph refers to today's incident.

This dog didn't come out of the house or anything, but just hearing the bark and growl was enough to push me up into a higher gear, and I ran the next quarter-mile or so at a somewhat quicker pace. Once I was out of sight of the house where I thought the dog was located, I slowed back down to a jog. This was all in the last 3/4 of a mile of my run.




Still want to do the 5k this Saturday.