"Share the trail" means "Get the hell out of my way"

I will be coming to New York this weekend instead of next weekend (I know, it's a surprise to me too). I'll probably take the Chinatown bus in on Friday night or Saturday morning. New York folks, let me know ASAP if you'll be around.

On Sunday I felt that I hadn't had enough of the cold after the Freeze Your %@&#$ Off 39.5 and decided to go for a long run. I decided to run in the woods, since weekends are the only time I can get out in daylight hours. It was a beautiful, crisp day, the sun was out, and all was right in the world except that I was in a foul mood!

All was going well as I caught up on the blogs that I'd missed out on after my mad scramble for the Freeze your %@&#$ 39.5. I didn't have to talk to any real people and I was on the internet where we all have the patience of saints, I didn't even know I was in a bad mood yet. However, when I went down to get ready for my run and saw that my mother had gone to church with all my cold weather gear still in the car I threw a temper tantrum. It was a 2-year-old's temper tantrum that I allowed myself to indulge in only because I knew that I was home alone and that all the windows were closed so the neighbors couldn't hear me. When I found my coat hung up in the wrong place I screamed and threw it on the ground. Then I picked it up to hang it back up and screamed and threw it right back down when I saw that a button had been knocked off by the SOB who'd hung it in the wrong place. I stomped a bit, threw a couple more unbreakable things onto soft surfaces, and growled dramatically. With that out of my system, I put everything back away, ate half a sandwich, and spent some more time on my soon-to-be-released new blog. Clearly, I really needed this run.

Within an hour I had cooled down enough to go out in public. I layered up in my not-so-sexy, better-to-be-worn-at-night-when-no-one-can-see-you cold weather clothes, grabbed some Gatorade that I hadn't emptied from my Camelbak yet (being a slob does have its perks), and hit the road.

When I'd run about 3/4 of a mile straight uphill I realized that I'd forgotten my Clif Shots at home. I decided not to go back because the sandwich I'd eaten seemed to want to make a break for freedom, and who knew if I'd come back out if I went home now.

I was going to try a new rout that could be between 10 and 16 miles depending on where I decided to come out of the woods, but I didn't have much information about where to pick up the trail except trying to match a pdf map up with a Google satellite photo and cross-check that with my awful memory and sense of direction. When I came to the trail head that I'd thought I was looking at on the google map, I realized I was wrong about that too. I stopped my watch to take stock and let the sandwich settle into its new riding conditions...

I'm stopped for two minutes at a water treatment plant next to the reservoir where there's no parking, and still someone catches me slacking off. A woman came up behind me dressed like she's just bought out all of Eastern Mountain Sports and pointed at the chain I was standing in front of. On said chain there was a sign that said, PUBLIC WATER SUPPLY, NO TRESPASSING. "Do you thing they mean that?" Ms. Gore-tex Outerwear 2007 asked me.
"If they did they would have put up more than a chain," I said. "And they would have covered up that footpath over there." Indeed, there was a well-used footpath going around the barrier, not that the chain itself was going to stop anyone from stepping over it.

A minute later I followed suit and stepped over the chain. In my opinion, if you don't want people to trespass, you don't put a nice, wide, even path all the way around the reservoir and continue putting NO TRESPASSING signs on every tree, even a mile from the nearest communicating path if you don't want people to run on it. I mean, come on, every high school aged kid in town's gone skinny dipping in that water anyway (except for me of course, nor have I ever vomited 2 40 oz. bottles' worth of Steel Reserve into its crystalline waters). I ran some 2-3 miles around the lake and found myself face-to-face with a fence stretching all the way to a ten-foot drop into what would be the lake in wetter years. The only way to get around was to climb over the railing and walk on the 2-3 inch ledge for a couple of feet clinging to the fence. Oh crap, have I ever mentioned that I'm afraid of heights? I got around without incident, though, and before starting out on a wider loop I looked at my watch to see how long the loop on the Forbidden Trail had taken me. What the fuck?! My watch had been stopped the whole time! In a good mood this would have barely phased me, but I was in a rotten mood and vaulted me right back into rage.

I ran off to do my usual 5.2 mile (although I think it's more) loop backwards (because backwards it's like a whole new trail). I was seething because my gear was fucked up, my nutrition was fucked up, my rout was fucked up, my data was fucked up, and my day was fucked up. Could this run get any worse?! Of course it could...

Most of the trail is single-track through rocks, trees and thick underbrush. In other words, it's not good terrain for passing, especially if bubble-headed 7-year-olds dressed in pink from head to toe are zoning out in the middle of it blocking your way. And everybody in eastern Massachusetts seemed to be out on that trail that day. Of course, that would have been fine, if they hadn't all brought their dogs, their neighbors' dogs, and their neighbor's cousin's best friend's 4 dogs along with them. I must have seen about 50 people and twice as many dogs that day. Have I mentioned that I'm afraid of dogs? I am very afraid of dogs... especially bigger dogs... especially if they're not on leashes... especially if they're running at me. I'm not kidding, most of the people I saw had a dog, and most of them had more than one dog, and none of them were on leashes, and most of them were big, jumpy black labs. The first close was when a black lab bounded towards me just to stop about 10 feet before catching me and stare at me with that stupid, "Throw me a stick!" look on his face. I'll tell you where you can stick it, you horrible mutt! I thought and gave its owners a dirty look. Later on I ran past a guy who's snapping, "Comet! Comet!" with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was facing in the direction that I was going. I passed him and came to a spot where three trails came together, and (I swear I'm not making this up) a dog comes sprinting down each one of those paths - one of which was a black lab of course - and they converge in a writing ball of romping doggie horseplay a mere three feet in front of where I'd stopped in my tracks, frozen in terror. If you can't get your fucking dog to come when you call, keep him on a fucking leash! I thought as I hightailed it out of there. I was not having fun anymore. I was still a good 2 miles into the woods, but I just wanted to get home already. Not only was there a dog around every turn, but I kept losing the trail under all the leaves and I was getting tired and hungry and this run was doing nothing for my mood. I rounded a bend and there in front of me was a man walking four black labs. When they saw me two of them took off in my direction with big stupid doggie smiles on their faces. I froze in terror, half crouched with my elbows in tight to protect my vital organs. The first beast pounced on me. His front paws landed on my chest and slipped down, then he jumped again and his paws landed squarely on my shoulders so we looked like we were about to slow dance. Only I looked like I was about to shit my pants. "Off, off" said the owner in a disinterested monotone. The dog was not deterred and I could feel its horrible moist breath on my face and its groping paws tearing at the cord to my headphones. When the monster was finally off of me the owner kinda grunted, "Sorry."
"Yeah. Excuse me, it's just that I've got this awful phobia of dogs..." I said. In my head I said, Kujo there should be shot, and then you shortly afterwards if you can't keep him under control!

From then on every time I passed a dog I could hear it rustling through the underbrush after me and I went tense. I know, I know, they can smell your fear, but what am I supposed to do if I'm afraid of dogs! If one more dog had so much as looked at me I was ready to scream, "Get your fucking dog off of me!" in my best crazylady voice and then marched down to town hall to get an ordinance passed.

I know that many of my readers have very lovable pooches at home, and this is not meant to offend them. I'm also fairly certain that my readers who have dogs make sure they get to burn off their energy more often than a sunny Sunday blowout once a month (or, like Angry's dog, maybe they're just too fat). But even if you're not terrified of dogs, it's still pretty unpleasant to have one tackle you in the middle of your long run.



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