Who's Running Who, Indeed

Monday afternoon, Beckett and I went for our run. The majority of the time, we run in the morning before work. But this day, I couldn't drag myself out of bed in time. Plus I knew I only had to go 4 miles, so I could do that after work.

What I'm getting at here, is that when you run after work, you see a different group of people. To my mind, these runners and walkers are much chattier. More ... awake. In the murkiness of pre-dawn, a short head nod suffices as a polite, almost gregarious greeting. But the harsh, full light of late afternoon apparently requires more acknowledgment.

So Monday afternoon, Beckett and I were running. Not only other runners, but Beckett is also more enthusiastic in the afternoon. So enthusiastic that my leash arm seemed precariously attached to the rest of my body. And 8 inches longer than the other arm.

We passed a runner heading the other way. The runner looked at us once, and then again. He grinned and called out once we were close, "Who's running who?"

I grimaced and hoped it passed for a smile. Does he not know that I've heard this many, many times before? I don't understand why I'm supposed to find this amusing.

He's saying I can't control a 40-pound dog. Which is true. I know it, but I don't particularly like to acknowledge it. Or have it pointed out by a complete stranger.

Yesterday, I ran in the morning. Even though I could have slept in and run in the afternoon, it wasn't worth it. And for the record: I'm the one holding the leash, so I'm in charge.