One more run with Maggie

Any runner will tell you the sport is as much a mental exercise as it is a physical one. For me, Saturday, as I pounded my way along a five-mile route, the run became spiritual.

I started out thinking about Maggie, and quickly realized she was right there with me every step of the way, tugging on an imaginary leash and pulling me along. She ran as she always did, about ten steps ahead of me, tail held high, contentedly wagging side to side. Every so often I could see her turn back, tongue happily hanging from her mouth as she panted encouragement to me to keep going.

And it worked. I finished in 44:17. Lately I've been happy to run a 9:15 mile. Saturday, with Maggie's help, I maintained an 8:53/mile pace for five miles.

Maggie always was my best running partner and trainer. These pictures are from 2003, while Jeff was in Bosnia. The significance of the timer in the above photo is it's displaying we ran two miles in 15:54. We'd broken the 8-minute mile mark.

Maggie never learned how to pace herself, which is what made her the best kind of running partner. A two or three mile run was a piece of cake for her. She'd start out fast, forcing me to pick up my pace to try and keep up. Tugs on the leash and pleas to slow down generally didn't sway her. She had far too much energy and enthusiasm, and it was my job to match it. If I remember right, our fastest time ever was 15:37 for a two mile run. (The mean black dog that chased us the last half mile probably deserves some of the credit for our speed, but we did it.)

It used to be if Maggie saw me in running clothes, she'd start dancing around, knowing I'd be grabbing the leash soon and calling for her. How I loved that special time with her!

Friday, I'd also gone running, and happened to see a woman running with her dog. I watched them with a mix of jealousy and bitterness, knowing I would never again be able to share this experience with my best running partner. Little did I know at the time, Maggie had just a couple hours left to live.

And so when she showed up for my run Saturday, I took it as a sign. Either God or Maggie wanted me to know that Maggie is happy and whole again. Her pain is gone. It doesn't ease my pain of missing her, but it eases my mind. Despite the comforting words I've told the kids (and myself these last few days), I've never really believed animals could go to Heaven. Now, I'm not so sure.

Note that I did not title this "One last run with Maggie". If she wants to join me again, she's always welcome. Since one of the things I enjoy about running is the time it gives me to think, I'm sure my running buddy will be in my thoughts a lot. But if this was her last time with me, I'll understand. I'll assume it means she's found happier trails to follow filled with an endless supply of tennis balls to chase. She is at peace. And so am I.