We will be fostering Davy, a brindle male, three years old, for three weeks. He has failed his racing career and would be a candidate for death or Asia were it not for the Greyhound Adoption Program.
It will be his very first experience in an actual house, having lived in kennels. That's correct, three years in kennels. He will be fostered in three different households by volunteers to help him get used to living with people (and other pets) in houses.
When they first go to a house, they shy at stairs, do not see glass (be careful with glass doors) and are generally unfamiliar with many other aspects of being a domesticated animal.
I will let you know how Davy gets along.
6/29/2004
6/24/2004
Running through winter.
What's colder, a south-westerly off Bass Straight (one of the roughest stretches of water in the world) or a northeasterly off the Victorian Alps?
Last night it was the wind off the snow. I could feel it 'burning' my cheeks as I ran north along Sydney Road as part of an 8k run including a lap of Princes Park. Brr.
The problem with Melbourne's weather (if it is a problem, which it probably isn't) is its unpredictability. Most really cold places have a predictability that allows you to accurately know what to wear or pack. Melbourne's weather can turn from one extreme to the other. One summer we were running in 42 degrees celsius (100-plus in Fahrenheit) when a cool change reduced the temperature by 24 degrees to just 18 celsius in thirty minutes.
Equally, in winter, a bitterly cold wind can spring up, making the wearing of several layers necessary. So it's possible to be caught out without hat, gloves or rainproof jacket.
Well, we have passed the winter solstice and the days get longer from now on.
When I got home, Goldie was bouncing around like a new pup, ready for a walk. She walks rain or shine. Not like poor Billy, who would dig his heels in at the sight of a wet footpath. We miss him very much.
Last night it was the wind off the snow. I could feel it 'burning' my cheeks as I ran north along Sydney Road as part of an 8k run including a lap of Princes Park. Brr.
The problem with Melbourne's weather (if it is a problem, which it probably isn't) is its unpredictability. Most really cold places have a predictability that allows you to accurately know what to wear or pack. Melbourne's weather can turn from one extreme to the other. One summer we were running in 42 degrees celsius (100-plus in Fahrenheit) when a cool change reduced the temperature by 24 degrees to just 18 celsius in thirty minutes.
Equally, in winter, a bitterly cold wind can spring up, making the wearing of several layers necessary. So it's possible to be caught out without hat, gloves or rainproof jacket.
Well, we have passed the winter solstice and the days get longer from now on.
When I got home, Goldie was bouncing around like a new pup, ready for a walk. She walks rain or shine. Not like poor Billy, who would dig his heels in at the sight of a wet footpath. We miss him very much.
6/20/2004
Goldie fails to execute perfect left turn at full speed.
Goldie the Brittany is losing control of her rear legs when doing something like a full-stretch run along the hallway with a hard left leading towards the back door.
Mid-turn, her rear legs flop, failing to achieve traction on the polished floorboards, and she falls over before scrambling into position for a straight-ahead surge at the door.
Of course, if she walked delicately, this wouldn't happen. But Brittanies don't walk delicately, so this is an unachievable hypothetical.
The only solution so far is to move the persian rug from the bedroom to the hallway. It doesn't really 'go' there but it gives Goldie adequate traction, even if she does move it slightly each time she tears past. I'm forever now straightening it up.
Oh well. Can't have a dog falling over all the time. Off to the vet this week to check it out. Hope it's not serious. Already lost one pooch this year.
I'm sure it's just a touch of arthritis. She is 12, you wouldn't think so to look at her.
Mid-turn, her rear legs flop, failing to achieve traction on the polished floorboards, and she falls over before scrambling into position for a straight-ahead surge at the door.
Of course, if she walked delicately, this wouldn't happen. But Brittanies don't walk delicately, so this is an unachievable hypothetical.
The only solution so far is to move the persian rug from the bedroom to the hallway. It doesn't really 'go' there but it gives Goldie adequate traction, even if she does move it slightly each time she tears past. I'm forever now straightening it up.
Oh well. Can't have a dog falling over all the time. Off to the vet this week to check it out. Hope it's not serious. Already lost one pooch this year.
I'm sure it's just a touch of arthritis. She is 12, you wouldn't think so to look at her.
6/18/2004
The dreaded 'double pyramid' .
Sounds like some weird instrument of torture.
It is.
It was a cold and windy night at the university track.
Goldie the Brittany watched from her warm position amongst the tracksuit tops under the judges' stand as we 'warmed' up.
The 'pyramid' is a training session where you run intervals of increasing distance, and then go 'down the other side' - like a pyramid. In this case - after a long warmup and stretching exercises - we ran a 200, 400, 800, 1600 (the metric mile), 800, 400 and 200 with two minutes rest in between each repeat.
Then we did it over.
Then it started raining. Then we packed Goldie into the car and drove home to a warm bath and a warm house. And a hot dinner.
It is.
It was a cold and windy night at the university track.
Goldie the Brittany watched from her warm position amongst the tracksuit tops under the judges' stand as we 'warmed' up.
The 'pyramid' is a training session where you run intervals of increasing distance, and then go 'down the other side' - like a pyramid. In this case - after a long warmup and stretching exercises - we ran a 200, 400, 800, 1600 (the metric mile), 800, 400 and 200 with two minutes rest in between each repeat.
Then we did it over.
Then it started raining. Then we packed Goldie into the car and drove home to a warm bath and a warm house. And a hot dinner.
6/15/2004
Down the coast.
Three day weekend at the coast. As if we didn't walk around all day, we had a run on Sunday night as well.
Started at Rye pier about 4.30, running up the coast along the foreshore to Rosebud. About 13k round trip. Back at the start in the darkness, I peeled off my running gear and plunged into the bay at the end.
My, that water was cold! Makes you wonder how anyone survived those shipwrecks all those years ago. It's not as if they'd run 13ks to build up a sweat.
Started at Rye pier about 4.30, running up the coast along the foreshore to Rosebud. About 13k round trip. Back at the start in the darkness, I peeled off my running gear and plunged into the bay at the end.
My, that water was cold! Makes you wonder how anyone survived those shipwrecks all those years ago. It's not as if they'd run 13ks to build up a sweat.
6/07/2004
Cold, dark, muddy.
We met at the track and jogged over to Princes Park near Optus Oval. A long warm up and lots of stretching then the session: 6 x 1600 metres, around the top of Princes Park, along the muddy inner track, finishing at the opposite side of the park, with a 300 metre jog back to the start in between each.
It's a killer session, one you don't want to do too often. Times from 5:55 to 6:05, with the last one in about 5:50.
Just had two fairly easy runs at the weekend, about 8k on Saturday and about 12k on Sunday. Still a bit sore from the killer session and trying to run the soreness out. It's hard in winter. Need some sunshine.
It's a killer session, one you don't want to do too often. Times from 5:55 to 6:05, with the last one in about 5:50.
Just had two fairly easy runs at the weekend, about 8k on Saturday and about 12k on Sunday. Still a bit sore from the killer session and trying to run the soreness out. It's hard in winter. Need some sunshine.
6/02/2004
This is, like, impossible.
The guy, Bekele, has run 60 second quarters for an entire five kilometres.
Well, a couple seconds over. 12:37.35. That's 7.35 seconds.
That is flying. As Craig Mottram said, the guy is off the planet.
How ironic - Bekele is not even running that distance at Athens, he's running the 10,000.
Bring it on.
Well, a couple seconds over. 12:37.35. That's 7.35 seconds.
That is flying. As Craig Mottram said, the guy is off the planet.
How ironic - Bekele is not even running that distance at Athens, he's running the 10,000.
Bring it on.
6/01/2004
Racing to afternoon tea.
In the cold winter sunshine on Saturday afternoon T. lined up for the Victorian 10k Road Racing Championship - her first race as a fully-fledged registered club runner.
Sure, she's done the odd fun run and she jogs around Princes Park. But competitive running is something else. It doesn't have to mean coming first or even fiftieth, it's enough to take part in an organised race.
The nerves beforehand were something to see! Butterflies verging on upset tummy, worried about coming last, worried about sore ankles, wanting to pull out just before the race. I'm so cruel, I just laughed.
The venue was the motor racing circuit at Sandown racecourse. Three and one third laps. Bang! The gun went off and they were away, a field of about two hundred. As they ran anti-clockwise down the main straight past the grandstand I walked a lap of the circuit clockwise - with Goldie the brittany rugged up in her tartan coat - and watched the field coming towards me after one lap, then two, the three.
T. stopped the clock at just over 53 minutes, an excellent first-up effort.
Then it was the mens' race and T. took over minding Goldie while I ran, our team of fifteen being the best turn-out in some years. The total field was three hundred or so. It's a great course, the curves all meld into one and the laps are over before you know it. The sun shone weakly, reflecting off the asphalt surface and creating quite a glare.
Then the finish line was in sight and I sprinted to the line, remembering the club mantra we had recited before the start: 'The faster you run, the faster you get to eat Boston Bun!'
And after a quick warm-down and stretch, we set into our afternoon tea spread with gusto.
Sure, she's done the odd fun run and she jogs around Princes Park. But competitive running is something else. It doesn't have to mean coming first or even fiftieth, it's enough to take part in an organised race.
The nerves beforehand were something to see! Butterflies verging on upset tummy, worried about coming last, worried about sore ankles, wanting to pull out just before the race. I'm so cruel, I just laughed.
The venue was the motor racing circuit at Sandown racecourse. Three and one third laps. Bang! The gun went off and they were away, a field of about two hundred. As they ran anti-clockwise down the main straight past the grandstand I walked a lap of the circuit clockwise - with Goldie the brittany rugged up in her tartan coat - and watched the field coming towards me after one lap, then two, the three.
T. stopped the clock at just over 53 minutes, an excellent first-up effort.
Then it was the mens' race and T. took over minding Goldie while I ran, our team of fifteen being the best turn-out in some years. The total field was three hundred or so. It's a great course, the curves all meld into one and the laps are over before you know it. The sun shone weakly, reflecting off the asphalt surface and creating quite a glare.
Then the finish line was in sight and I sprinted to the line, remembering the club mantra we had recited before the start: 'The faster you run, the faster you get to eat Boston Bun!'
And after a quick warm-down and stretch, we set into our afternoon tea spread with gusto.
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