AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!
 AARRROOOUUUUUU!
  AARRROOOUUUUUU!

I sit here torn and bleeding tonight, trying to type with one arm almost dislocated and my lower back crying in pain from the morning's action.

I've had Blueberry two weeks now, and have had her running on several occasions. She has run with me alone, with partners, and in large groups. It seemed reasonable, almost logical, to believe that she could run with me in on a trail.

Blueberry is a six-month-old bluetick puppy, weighing about 40 pounds. She has been relatively easy to control on a leash so far. This morning I brought her with me to a low-key trail race. Being fat and out-of-shape from a couple months worth of inactivity and ice cream, I had no aspirations other than a fun time loping around the woods with my new dog.

The Baltimore Roadrunners Billy Goat Series is 4/4 on rain this year, and this race was the best yet. Precipitation poured out of the skies as we lined up in the very back of the pack, and began loping along at her standard dogtrot. As we made a 180 turn at the end of the field, Blueberry took off after a local High School cross-country team with me in tow. We were sloshing through mud and grass, and I couldn't handle the speed. Less than half a mile into the race I was in oxygen deficit, and stopped to walk up the first big hill.

I pulled Blueberry off to the side of the trail. She actually listened as we walked up the hill and I regained my breath as the rest of the field began to sweep by us.

Then it happened. At the top of the hill the trail began a series of long slow switchback descents for the next half-mile. Blueberry could see and (most likely) scent the runners in front of us.

AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!
AARRROOOUUUUUU!
AARRROOOUUUUUU!

Immediately I found myself in hot pursuit of the runners in front of us. I had the leash looped around my wrist, AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU, and the trees were whipping by my head. As my feet hit the ground on the muddy trail I would slide four or five feet AARRROOOUUUUUUUU! Desperately, I grasped the smaller saplings with my left hand to slow us down, ARRH ARRH AARRROOOUUUUUUU and we were off again.

As the trail widened into a fire lane we began to pass a lot of runners AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU AARROOUUUUUU!!

She dragged me down the slope through some blackberry bushes toward a stream crossing and leaped over a small cliff's edge. Sliding on my rear, I went over the ledge and managed to land on my feet just in time to get towed facefirst through the rushing waters. AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!

Gaining my feet, I discovered that the trail dissipated and we had to bushwack up a tall, steep hill. The other runners had come to a screeching halt here, and were crawling up on their hands and knees in the mud and leaves. There was no traction, but I had an advantage - I was being pulled by the thing on the leash on my wrist, and she had four legs. AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU, right through the sawbriers.

We finally ascended the hill, and found ourselves ahead of all of the visible pack. With no one visible in front of her, Blueberry settled into an easy dogtrot, the pace I had thought we would run the entire trail race based on her previous performances.

It was still too much for me, and I stopped at the three-mile mark to rest. A couple of minutes later a frequent training partner caught up to me, and we started through the woods together. As long as Blueberry was trotting in front of us and couldn't see anyone else we managed to stay at a conversational pace. We admired her form as she effortlessly hurdled the deadfalls that had us cautiously stepping over the logs and easing down gently on the other side.

About four and a half miles into the race we crossed another stream. Blueberry tugged my to the right, but Rick and I kept going straight. Very shortly we noticed that there were no footprints in the mud, and no markers to guide us. Simutaneously with that observation we heard a shout, "Hey guys, back here!"

Ahh, the old let'em get way down the wrong trail a good long distance before you call them back trick! We turned around, but had added at least two hundred yards to the course, and more importantly, now had a young man some fifty yards ahead of us.

AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!
AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!
AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!

Blueberry was having none of this. I discovered myself in hot pursuit again. This runner had a competitive streak in him, and began to hammer the relatively flat sections of the trail. Caution was still the buzzword since the trail was laced with exposed roots, rolling rocks, and rivulets of cascading water from the morning's rain. AARRRROOOOUUUUUUUUUUU!

He knew he was being chased. We slowly but inexorably gained ground on him until we were almost at his heals. AARRROOUUU, AARRROOUUUUU! He would glance back over his shoulder as he hit a switchback, and I could see it in his eyes, no dog was going to beat him to the finish line. Once again I was grabbing saplings to try and give me some measure of control over our speed.

We continued to close and Blueberry's long bawl changed to a short chop AARHP, AARHP, AARHP, AARHP. We were right on his heels. I thought that if we stayed there until the trail opened up into the final field, we could sprint by him to the finish. I wasn't going to take a chance on passing him and exposing him to the possibility that either of us would get tangled up in the leash. He must have had the same idea, because the trail suddenly split. A tall, slender maple was growing right in the middle of the trail, and a deadfall lay across the passageway at this point.

The main trail went left, but our prey, at the very last second, veered right and hurdled the deadfall. So did Blueberry. Unfortunately, I went around the left side of the tree with the leash looped around my right wrist.

Suddenly we came to an abrupt face-to-face halt. She turned and tried to gnaw through the nylon webbing, then looked at me with accusatory eyes. I let greyshirt move out of sight before unentangling us from the tree and deadfall. Blueberry wasn't very happy, but resumed her dogtrot and we covered the last half-mile at an easy nine-minute pace. Tenth overall, second master, and it felt almost as bad as a marathon.

Blueberry went over to her first postrace party and scarfed a plain bagel from the race director. I changed into dry clothes and wondered what had happened out there.

Me, I'm sore, I'm tired, and my body aches in places I haven't felt in years. The blackberry bushes and sawbriers have left their marks. But I have a complimentary gift certificate to a local running store, and could use a new pair of shoes.

Well, that's it for now. Thanks for listening if you got this far.

Jim Adams in Baltimore, Maryland USA