After spending most of Saturday in a car without cruise control, my right leg frozen in “press down that gas pedal” mode, my legs were almost as stiff and sore as if I’d just run a marathon.
Which led me to think that given a choice between 12 hours of driving and 12 hours of running, I might honestly choose the latter. If my muscles are going to hurt, I’d rather it be because I was using them instead of pretending they don’t exist.
Of course, 12 hours of running doesn’t get me very far along the route to visit our oldest daughter in suburban Charleston, S.C., so that wasn’t an option. I unkinked my legs on Sunday by taking Rowan’s husky, Loki, for a get-reaquainted jog.
We put a harness-style leash on him and he did much better in terms of not yanking my arm out of my socket, like he used to do when they lived with us. Oddly, I feel like this time I was the one who would’ve liked to run farther. Though it cools off at night down here this time of year, it was already warming up again by the time we headed out around 9 a.m. and it wasn’t long before he was panting.
Maybe when they come home for Christmas I’ll get to take him out for a longer run. In the meantime, he’s getting plenty of exercise with his buddy Knox, the German Shepherd mix adopted by Rowan’s roommate Jessica.