Like a little football

Miko is my third running companion. She is a little wire haired terrier who completes the long shadows of my dynamic Saturday morning running routine with Melissa. The three of us have been forging our 12 minute mile selves through the neighborhoods of Lincoln Square and Evanston since early spring. When her little urban paws hit the grassy carpet of our favorite park, she tears around us like a horse on a lunge line. Usually the leash ends up wrapping around my ankles and I end up tripping. Yes, it is all the things you might see in a comic strip or cartoon. She runs perfectly between us... Mocking us when we start to walk (because her pace really does not vary much from the pace she requires to keep up with us running). Whatever, Miko, we tell her. You don't have to be such a jerk about it.

Miko stopped running with us when temperatures reached the upper nineties. It was a sad moment... We started off strong for two blocks and then after passing under the el tracks it was like a mule refusing to move: all paws dug into the ground and she would not budge. Eventually Melissa had to pick her up and carry her under Melissa's arm like a little football as we ran her back home. Did we get strange looks for the moms picking up their coffee on a Saturday morning? Yes, we got plenty of those. I am ready for the fall- for cool temperatures and brisk bulging blue skies. Melissa and I ran up the lake front together sans our little pint sized shadow between our shadows. There were some squirrels misbehaving and we commented on how Miko may have reacted to their shenanagans. I guess that's what happens when you lose your running partner: you see them in every chipmunk and squirrels you encounter.