As I sit here pondering that it’s Lame Post Friday, I am forced to come to the conclusion: I got nuthin’ (not even a g).
I have not run since Sunday. Sunday was a good run in Vermont, where we were visiting Steven’s family. I reached the “Oh yeah, I can rock this” stage. Of course, I even realized at the time that the feeling had something to do with the fact that I was on a gentle down slope. Let’s hear it for gravity.
Where my sisters-in-law live, the run is scenic but can be a little nerve wracking, because for the most part there are no sidewalks and the road has no shoulder. The posted speed limit is 25 mph, which should help, but, well, you know speed limits. Most people see them as a mere suggestion and others insist upon regarding them as a minimum. (True story: when we lived in Georgia, the paper had a call-in comment line. One yahoo called in and said, “When the speed limit is 45, I should be able to do at least 45.”)
Anyways, advantage Herkimer, for lots of sidewalks and a nice wide shoulder on the road to Herkimer County Community College, my favorite hill.
As I said, I have not taken advantage of the Herkimer sidewalks this week for running purposes. I didn’t even take my dog, Tabby, for a walk the first two days. Monday she didn’t seem to mind, but Tuesday when I went so far as to leave the house, she got a little miffed. She didn’t pee on the floor or chew anything up. She just sat on the love seat and turned her face pointedly away from me. Luckily, all was forgiven when I returned. That’s the great thing about dogs: they never hold a grudge.
So on Wednesday, I was determined to make things up to my dog by not deserting her to run and by taking her for a long walk. It was a beautiful sunny day. I put on my crazy old lady hat, because it has a nice wide brim. We walked for a good half hour.
The next night Steven was home, so we all three walked together. That walk was a little more eventful. We met up with a tiny dog that immediately started pulling on her leash to meet Tabby. They sniffed each other and got their leashes tangled. The little dog was definitely more excited to meet Tabby than vice versa, but Tabby was greatly interested in getting the dog’s owner to pet her. The owner told us the little dog’s best friend was a doberman that lived a couple of houses over. There was another big dog nearby, she said, who was also a friend. As we walked on, a dog up a driveway started barking.
“There’s a dog,” I said, although I did not actually see him. We started to cross the street, not to avoid the dog. It was the way we were headed.
“Oh, he’s a nice dog,” the little dog’s owner called after us. We did not get to meet that dog. We passed a house for sale.
“If we bought that house, Tabby could get to know all those dogs,” I said. We did not call our realtor, though.
We strolled down the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. There are a few little stations with information and pictures. One day I’ll go for a walk carrying a notebook and put some of that in a blog post. Just warning you. Uh, I mean preview of coming attractions.
We admired some roadwork the village had done, envied some houses’ Halloween decorations and in general enjoyed the scene. And as I often blog about innocuous strolls with our schnoodle, I guess this qualifies as my Friday Lame Post.
Mohawk Valley Girl 