I will no longer be updating Iron Guide (see below). Instead, I am now writing at my new, personal blog. Though that will be about some of the newer things I'm doing in life, if you want to see updates about Louie, Lester, and now Dusky, add me on Facebook -- there's enough ridiculously cute pictures to go around.

Continuing the series on catching up.

A few weeks ago, a bunch of us drove up to Vancouver to run their half-marathon. In all, nine people we knew were up at the race. Of those, three -- Karan, Brett, and I -- people ran the half-marathon and another -- Stephanie -- ran the full marathon. Black nails, dehydration, and some cramps aside, everyone finished their 13.1 or 26.2 miles and came back in one piece. =P

OK. So what about the cute puppy? Lester obviously wasn't going to run the half-marathon with me. I've tried taking him on very short runs before and, yeah, despite all his usual energy, he's a total wuss. He can't even get past a mile! Out of the blocks, he's like a little bunny, prancing, hopping around, tangling me up with his leash and just being a general nuisance. After about half a mile, he starts dragging behind and looking up at me with big, sad eyes. To make matters even more pathetic, he starts poking me in the hand, as if saying "Why? Oh why do you make me exercise?" I'd love to be able to speak puppy and respond, "Because you try to run laps around my living room."

In either case, even if he could run thirteen miles, I wouldn't want him on the course, the race organizers wouldn't wouldn't let him, and Guide Dogs would crucify me if I even suggested it. So, what to do about the dog for the two or so hours of the race? Normally, a family member would just be able to watch him. Because that obviously doesn't apply to me and none of my friends are approved by Guide Dogs, we faced a bit of a dilemma. Michele (our Guide Dogs adviser), Betsy (another lead for our group) and I talked and decided it'd be OK to fudge the rules a bit: we figured that, even though no one was officially approved, Kaushal and Paavany had seen me with Lester [and Louie before him] long enough and worked with him enough to manage for the race. Not strictly proper, but whatever, gotta do what you gotta do.

So, on race day, Lester and I woke up extra early [5am!] and went over to Paavany's room. I lay Lester down by Paavany and had him settle back to sleep, after which I tiptoed out of the room and went back to preparing for the race. All told, Lester was with Kaushal and Paavany for about four hours, two of which was spent sleeping. My dad-like paranoia aside -- Brett was teasing me, since I started worrying right after I crossed the finish line -- they did just fine. No misbehaving. No accidents. No nothing. They were even able to explain to the race organizers that Lester was a guide dog in training, pointing to the green jacket, apparently perfectly on cue, and so could enter the runner recovery area even though pets weren't generally allowed. Woo! Go Paavany! Go Kaushal!



Coming off the high of running one half-marathon, another buddy (Wes) and I decided to run another half-marathon. Which one? We just looked around for something that weekend and found one in Olympia. A little overconfident from Vancouver, we hopped in my rental car [my car being semi-totaled and all], threw in Lester and his crate, and drove to Olympia. (As crazy as this sounds, it's really not all that crazy. Last summer, Wes, Quincy, and I -- and Louie -- decided one day that it was just to nice to stay at work. We took the day off, drove to the coast and surfed for two days.) Overconfident? Yeah. Thinking that Lester would be fine, since he now sleeps loose in my bedroom and has stayed in the car a couple times without incident, I thought I'd let him relax in the car for the the race. So, a few minutes before the race, I went back to the car, rolled down the windows a bit, and had Lester settle down into the rear floorboards to sleep.

When we returned, about two hours later, Lester was no longer sleeping. Or in the rear floorboards. Nowhere near. He was in the driver's seat. And that wasn't all. Lester had apparently had a bout of diarrhea. Explosive diarrhea. He'd pooped all over the driver and passenger seats. Not his spot, mind you, there wasn't a single drop anywhere on the back seats or on the floorboards. It was all in the front and almost entirely on the driver's -- my -- seat. You thought I was kidding when I said that dogs won't ever poop in their den? Nope. Definitely not kidding.

Disgusting. But I guess I deserved it. I really shouldn't have left him in the car for so many reasons. That was totally stupid.

Two hours, three-fourths of a bottle of 409, half a roll of paper towels, and lots of stain remover later, we finally had a car that looked somewhat sanitary. To prevent our butts from getting wet from all that 409, we put some big ol' Safeway paper bags over the seats. We must've been quite a sight driving home. =P

Although that was enough to bring the car home, I would've felt extremely, extremely bad giving back that car in the shape it was. So, I spent some three hours yesterday doing a second pass: vacuuming up all the fur, going a little crazy with Nature's Miracle, and even cleaning out hard-to-reach areas with a toothbrush. Ultimately, after everything was done, I was pretty proud of my clean-up job. By looking at it (or, for that matter, smelling it), you wouldn't be able to tell that anything had happened. The rental company did a full check, gave me a thumbs up, and took it back without a word.

But, still... if you're offered a gray Ford Focus rental with California plates, you might want to consider upgrading. =P

Oh, I almost forgot. As much as I deserved to clean up Lester's poop, Lester deserved -- and got -- a very thorough bath. Here he is looking quite pathetic in the tub after we got home.

Labels: Ironman, Lester, Louie

Permalink | Written at 6:51 PM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Congratulations on your race!

I'm sorry about your black toenails. I FULLY understand what you are going through. Mine happened almost a year ago and the nail still hasn't grown completely out.

Thanks for the link. I hope your feet feel better soon.
Permalink   | Posted by  Laura Moncur at October 10, 2007 8:42 AM