Leo ran 18 miles. I ran 7 and biked 11. I was going to bring a bike trailer to haul him, at least some of the way, but decided against it. He is now cursing my name with a crack in the pad of his left front paw. The whole expedition took about twice as long as I thought it would. I guess we found the border between Type II and Type III fun. I owe him a ride in the bike trailer next time.
We drove 270 miles the other day. Up the shore to the Arrowhead Trail, where I dropped off the mighty Bridgestone MB-1 and locked it to a tree. Then we headed over to County Road 70 and parked the Dodge. Immediately, we were calf deep in mud. and the “trail” helped me re-learn what it means to bushwhack. Thankfully, we migrated up out of the swamp into some higher terrain.
We saw one hiker who was looking for his two boys. Later, we ran into the boys. They were relieved to hear of the other hiker since they thought he’d gotten lost. Kids worried about their parents. I still don’t know how they got separated.
Then it got really easy as we hit the Tom Lake Road and went by several spur cross-country ski trails. Some openings and ponds. Leo attempted to run down several chipmunks and squirrels. He doesn’t get to paint a squirrel on the side of his fuselage yet. We left the Tom Lake Road and headed up a big hill. Not easy anymore. There was a really neat view near Carlson Pond. The log walkway headed out to the pond and dangled out in space.
We stumbled out of the brush and found my bike. A guy who just finished cycling 67 miles on gravel stopped and chatted. I explained we had just run across the Superior Hiking Trail and were bike shuttling back to the start. I was anyway. Leo wasn’t. I glided and Leo worked hard down the Arrowhead Trail pavement to our dirt road connector. I stopped in the shade every mile or so and let the dog rest. Every crossing creek and ditch helped him cool off. He’d only run directly behind me, so I rode on the wrong side of the road so he could be in the shade. I was (and am still) upset with myself. I overshot and picked too much for one day for my teammate to handle.
Leo was happier than me to see the truck. We drove down to Lake Superior where he dove in and cooled off. I walked in with my shoes on and scrubbed off the mud. We were the only people at the shore. It was calm and clear. Surreal with no horizon line. Plus, we were both exhausted, which added to the strangeness of our solitude next to the big lake.
I inspected his feet at home and found the cracked foot pad. I found our limits. Time to dial it back some. I’m sorry, Leo.
The run: North Shore Shmo: Leg 16
The bike: Leg 16 Bike
The link to donate to the Wounded Warrior Project: North Shore Shmo!
T-Shirt of the Day:
I was in the 35th at Kunsan AB in Korea. Nobody calls it the 35th. They were the Pantons. The other squadron was the Juvats.
One time, I met a pilot who asked if I’d been to Kunsan. I said yeah. He said he had, also. He said, “You were in the better squadron, right?” I said, “Of course.” We both smiled. Neither of us said what squadron we’d been in. It was the best handling of that silly rivalry I’ve ever heard.
Also, I met my wife there. I guess Uncle Sam wasn’t all bad.