Goldie getting used to the single life.

I wish I knew how they really feel.

We had our first weekend at the beach without Billy. Goldie ran around the backyard looking for ... what? Billy? I wish I knew.

We had some visitors, the sister-in-law and her partner. And their two dogs, a Shih-Tzu Pomeranian cross (Lucky) and a cross between that dog and a Cocker Spaniel (Sooty). Literally. Lucky is Sooty's father (sire?). Lucky got lucky!

And how cute is Sooty. A small dog, but with spaniel paws, spaniel ears and those beautiful spaniel eyes!

In they came at the front door, or should I say in they flew like two flying doormats. A growl from Goldie was the initial greeting, then we let them all out into the back yard to sort things out for themselves.

They tore around like rabbits on steroids.

After a while we opened the back door and in they flew at a hundred miles an hour. They spent the next five minutes investigating the house, then they found themselves a comfortable spot in the lounge room and settled down.

Except Sooty kept jumping up onto the couch. Her 'owners' kept telling her to get down, and we kept telling them she was fine. (If you have dogs you are training to keep off the furniture, it would not be a good idea to visit us, as your training will go right off the rails!)

I ended up with Sooty in my lap, stroking her beautiful black curls and whispering sweet nothings into her spaniel ears. She loved it. Goldie wasn't too fussed, she's over being jealous.

Went for a late afternoon walk to the beach. Go crazy, dogs! What a sight. Bittersweet, of course, as we were missing Billy's familiar lope along the sand.

At the end of the weekend, back home to the suburbs. Goldie went outside to an empty back yard, looking for ... what?

Eight is more than enough.

Moving into winter has its advantages.

One of them isn't running a hill session at Royal Park. For one thing, it's dark and you tend to trip over dead branches. For another thing, the pathway we use is getting old and cracking up, making it hazardous.

Last night it had also been raining, and there's nothing worse than doing stretches on cold, wet ground.

On the bright side, it wasn't cold, in fact I probably overdressed, expecting it to be colder.

I jumped off the tram from work at Royal Park station, drove to the University, changed in the car, ran in to pick up any stragglers, found Theo and Andrew and jogged with them back to Royal Park, about a mile.

The group was halfway through its warmup routine and soon we were steaming and ready to start. It's a great group, with runners of all abilities from really fast to really slow and everyone encourages each other.

The course is a 550 metre pathway starting at Flemington Road by the tennis court and ending where it crosses the West Coburg tramline which snakes through the park. (The course can be seen as the top lateral of the triangular shape appearing above the Figure 8 in the map.) It is a gradual rise to begin with the gradient increasing 150 metres from the end.

The session was eight of these, jogging back down after each. This is a regular training session, once every month or so, but the most repeats I had done for probably a few years was six, so this was going to be testing.

I completed the eight by running more conservatively than I have done in the past and then blasting the last one in about 1:43.

Jogged back to the University track then home for dinner.

Running around the zoo in the cold and dark.

While we were warming up, or trying to warm up, someone remarked he had been colder once - in Canada.

Thanks dude. This is Australia. It's meant to be a Mediterannean climate.

We started at the south-east corner of Princes Park, after doing run-throughs (fast warm-up semi-sprints over eighty metres) on the darkest and wettest section of the entire Princes Park circuit. Like, can we do it somewhere I can actually see? Guess not. The coach is such a creature of habit.

So the session goes like this: run hard for eleven minutes, jog gently for three. Repeat four times.

Heading north we turned into Princes Park at the old railway line, followed it through to Royal Park, hard right at Royal Park station, left at Park Street by which time the first eleven minutes had elapsed. Three minutes jogging found us on Oak Street where we launched into the second repeat, up through Royal Park to the Hockey Centre (Melbourne is basically filled with parks, gardens and sports centres!) finishing outside the Zoo entrance. The third repeat ran clockwise around the zoo ending back in Princes Park with the final repeat a circuit of Princes Park ending up back at the track (which can be seen at the bottom right of the Royal Park link above - look for the red track encircling a white pitch).

Not so cold now. We were steaming. It was a long hard session, so into the showers after warm-down stretches and off to a well-earned dinner.

Vale, Billy.

Billy died yesterday after the very fast onset of a suspected brain tumour.

We adopted Billy from the Greyhound Adoption Program at age eighteen months.

He apparently would not run and we suspect he was treated cruelly, as he was afraid of most men.

Billy was white and fawn, the most beautiful colour, with a fawn love-heart shape on his side. He joined our twelve-year-old Brittany, Goldie, as part of the family. We had also adopted Goldie, aged nine, when her elderly owner had died. Goldie was the alpha dog and they got on fine. They would sleep with their heads on each other, or occasionally, sitting on each other!

Gradually Billy overcame his fears and was extremely well-adjusted and happy. When he became excited, usually at the mention of the three key words in his life - walk, beach and chicken - he would pick up the nearest soft object, such as a soft toy or a shoe, and throw it in the air or maybe just go and place it on the lounge room floor.

We spent much time at the beach where Billy would break out into a kind of half-hearted gallop - you could tell he was never going to be a racer. And why should he? They were originally court dogs in the days of the Pharaohs, not money-making machines for cruel people with dollar signs in their eyes looking for a quick buck.

After visits to the beach, we would always go sit in the sun outside the Blairgowrie cafe, where dogs frequently outnumber people.

Billy's fifteen minutes of fame occurred when he was photographed at the launch of the University of Melbourne Canine Blood Bank, (that's not him in the picture) an important new veterinary facility. His photo appeared in the Melbourne Herald Sun, Australia's largest selling daily newspaper.

He also appeared at several Greyhound Adoption Program promotions in shopping malls, where these docile and beautiful dogs go on display for children to pat - a PR exercise necessary because so many still believe they are aggressive or vicious dogs.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

So, vale Billy.

It's hard coming home and having to clear out their bedding, put away their harness, look at their empty kennel.

And then, with tears welling in your eyes, you think, oh my, it's only a dog.

Thank God.

I think you know what I mean.

Dog news.

Billy the Greyhound is seriously ill, has been sick for quite a few weeks but has taken a sharp downturn. Been back and forth to the vet who is a greyhound specialist, he's very good so Billy is in the best of hands.

Could be a brain tumour, off to a specialist tomorrow. It's not looking good for Billy.

Goldie the Brittany continues to astound with her robustness and energy. If you want a hardy dog, get a Brittany. But only if you can exercise it a couple of hours a day.

If not, a greyhound may be perfect. Despite a reputation for needing exercise, they are happy with going out a couple of brief times a day and the rest of the time they lay around. And they are extremely clean dogs and shed very little hair.

Fifty years since the four minute mile.

To the day.

So it was an appropriate moment to do a track session consistently of 1000m repeats at the old university track surrounded by sandstone buildings and playing fields.

It was a cold evening but we soon warmed up. We had brought Goldie the Brittany spaniel along - she was tied up just off the track near the finishing post watching everyone with great interest and getting plenty of attention and pats.

It was to be a tough session with just sixty seconds 'rest' between repeats.

After an extensive warm-up, we started.

Went through the first 1000 in 3.29. Then a 3.32. At this point, Hamish's session was over due to a slight hamstring twinge. I was alternating in the lead with Theo. A 3.33 brought us up to half way. The fourth repeat clocked in at 3.36 and then a 3.38. I dashed out the sixth repeat in 3.18 with a fast last lap. Finished! Two kilometre warm-down, twenty minutes of stretching, then home to a warm house and dinner.

Won't be breakin' any four minute miles soon. At least I'm still getting around the track.

Cross country race meeting.

Well it wasn't so muddy. Two loops of a three kilometre course around the equestrian centre, with a sand obstacle, a couple of low jumps and one splashy section. No hills, so it was a fast course.

Lots of people brought their dogs - wire-haired terriers, labradors, cockers and more all furiously sniffing the ground curiously and wondering what all the horsey smells were about.

It was a cold day and we all needed several layers before and after our relay legs.

It was a mad scramble to get everyone's names onto team sheets and aware of what leg they were running. You always have someone who gets lost on the way or arrives late ar doesn't turn up at all.

This year all went to plan. Men's Division One led after the first runner, but faded to ninth place. Division Five led all the way to record an easy victory as did Division Seven. (These teams may be talented beyond their divisions - it is hard to 'seed' teams as personnel may change from winter to winter - looks like we have more depth in the lower divisions this year.) The women's team numbers were depleted with illness and injury this time round.

Following the last runner hitting the line, afternoon tea ensued with copious amounts of muffins and orange cake being consumed.

After the awarding of pennants, the wind got stronger and we all eventually drifted off home in the fading light to warm baths and steaming hot dinners.

Tomorrow, we run in the mud.

Winter racing season starts tomorrow. After drought conditions for months, the heavens opened last night and it hasn't stopped raining.

The cross-country course will be rivers of mud by 1.30pm tomorrow afternoon.

This will be fun. Everyone is bringing something for afternoon tea which we will eat, steaming from our run and covered in mud.

Off to the vet.

Billy has a sore head and shies away when we go to pet him. The vet says he has a cold. He may also have a kidney problem as he is drinking to excess. The blood test result comes back tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Goldie has a little ... incontinence problem. It's back on the little blue pills for her.

She is also going deaf.

Running on the plateau. And the dog goes wild.

There's a particular kind of joy running through green fields that appear to be at sea level, but then you round a curve or breast a hill and see before you, spread out like a photographic tableau from National Geographic, a vista so amazing you draw an involuntary breath.

Unless you're running so hard, you're already breathing at full capacity.

Which is what I was doing. I was actually chasing a dog. Goldie, Brittany Spaniel and instinctive flusher of game, pointer to rabbits and retriever of ducks, was going totally ape. (Can a dog go 'ape'?)

Running madly across the fields, sniffing a wombat warren here, a rabbit trail there, evidence of kangaroos, wallabies, echidnas and a hundred other creatures. Then there were the grazing cows in the field across the valley, looking like little plastic toys.

At the top of the hill, the view stretched over Wilson's Promontory and the surrounding bay. seemigly hundreds of kilometres of stark, stunning land and seascape. You just gaze at it and wonder at the madness going on in the rest of the world.

Meanwhile, Billy the greyhound just trotted along, hardly looking up. They're supposed to chase rabbits. Yeah, right.

Next day after breakfast, I set off on a nine kilometre run as described by Lisa. Simply follow the road, taking each left-hand turn. You could partially see the route on the perimeter of the valley. First kilometre, slight downhill to the river. Left turn. A rise. Another kilometre to another left turn. Another gradual rise, two kilometres, not too hard. A cheery wave to a passing farmer in his ute, dog on the back tray.

Then another left turn and suddenly, a sharp gradient came into view. This time it kept going. Four kilometres of relentless hill. Just when I thought it couldn't keep rising, another left turn. This was the home stretch, a steep downhill sloughing off all the altitude gained over the course.

I could see the house nestling in the valley and ran towards it, glad the hard part was over.

Four 1500s in the dark.

That's murder on the legs. Run 1500 metres, take a jogged 300 metre break, repeat four times.

This stuff seems a lot harder since daylight saving ended. It's cooler and we're running in the dark.

I got home to be greeted by two wet noses. OK, dogs, a walk around the block will help get the lactic acid out of my legs I guess.

Mud bath.

A Brittany and a Greyhound make a comic sight when you're out walking them.

Saturday was hot so we took Goldie and Billy to the Merri Creek, a shady watercourse that is a tributary of the Yarra River. After a few kilometres we came to an enclosed football pitch where we let the dogs run off-leash.

Goldie needed no encouragement to tear around, typical Brittany she is; however Billy is a lazy greyhound and I usually have to run around like crazy in order to get him to do the same. Eventually he broke into a full gallop and did so for at least, oh, ten seconds.

The grass on the pitch was lush and green. In the middle was a round hole, a couple of feet across, for watering access. Above the pipe outlet, the hole was full of mud. Billy pawed at it, and then rolled himself in the mud. He stood up, chocolate brown from his nose to his tail. back home, I had to hose him down to return him to his pristine white-and-fawn state.

More dogs than people eating breakfast at the Blairgowrie cafe.

It's true. I counted twenty-seven dogs and only twenty-five people at the outdoor cafe.

Majority: Golden Retrievers. Then Yellow Labradors, Black Labradors, Cavaliers, Beagles, Poodles, standard and miniature, those little grey terriers with mustaches, a Spoodle, a couple of German Shepherds and a bunch of friendly mutts. One woman had a Shih-Tzu sitting up on its own chair.

And of course, Goldie the elderly Brittany who tears around like a pup and Billy the Greyhound who is so shy and retiring and has such beautifully 'mascaraed' Cleopatra-like eyes people think he's a girl.

It was a beautiful still Autumn morning, the sky meeting the sea in a gleaming seamless silver haze. We walked the three kilometres to the cafe and took up a table in the sun. (We had intended going for a 10 kilometre run, but decided a lazy amble to the food store in the autumn sunshine to eat bacon and eggs and drink coffee would be a grand alternative. That's dedication to training!)

Basically, if you have a dog and you like coffee, you eat at the Blairgowrie cafe. And if you don't, you don't. Dogless people are quite welcome though. As are smokers, they can sit outside.

Billy lay on the concrete (taking about five seconds to get down, he's like a camel when it comes to lowering himself) while Goldie peremptorily bumped down onto her haunches and regarded the scene with the haughty magisterial air only a senior female alpha dog (is this possible, I don't know) can muster, issuing the odd truncated bark at one or another dog.

There was a fierce-looking Doberman as well, tied up to the railing. A girl of about four came out from the cafe and started hugging his neck.

We get a lot of interest in Billy. A man with a beagle asked me how energetic he is. That's ironic, coming from a Beagle owner, thinking the Greyhound's going to be hard work.

People are surprised when they find out Greyhounds are couch potatoes. Literally in Billy's case - he has a double 'fold-out' sofa that converts to a bed. Goldie has a regular dog-pad, she's happy with that, although she does occasionally climb up onto Billy's bed. They look hilarious, sitting there like bookends.

Back on track. And more dog news.

Cranked out a nice hill training session with the group last night after yet another hiatus with back and hamstring troubles. Five times up a long hill of about 500 metres with a sharp increase in gradient over the last 100 metres.

The cross country season is coming up soon and we're all looking forward to running over hill and dale, jumping fences and leaping muddy creeks on cold Saturday afternoons followed by a steaming hot bath (not all together)!

Missed the track & field finals due to the injury.

Kept fit just by walking the dogs. Oh yes - the dogs. Goldie's been a naughty girl, barking at the cat next door and jumping into the pot plants along the fence. Billy's been OK. Bit lazy, though. You'd think a greyhound would want more exercise than a Brittany. Not Billy.

We took them to Merri Creek - where there are wide open fields near Fawkner - and let Goldie go, she was off out of sight immediately, flushing rabbits out and chasing them crazily all over the place. Billy had a good look too.

It was a hot day and the dogs enjoyed getting down into the creek and lying in the rapids after their exertions. The water is quite clean that far north.

Press release from the White House.

Spot the English Springer has died, at the very good age of 15. She was a second generation White House dog.

The White House is now run solely by Barney, the Scottish Terrier.

You can tell how civilised a society is by how it treats its dogs.

No arguments. It's true.

It just is.

Farewell, Spot. Good girl.

More boring medical stuff.

No running or race walking for a few weeks, back and hamstring are arguing with each other. I'd be running along and the hamstring would 'grab' suddenly without actually tearing, but then remain rockhard for days on end. Then it would ease, but the back would go into spasm.

I had a 3k walk race at Aberfeldie - last round of interclub - and was leading with two laps to go when the hammy locked up. Thought I'd have to pull out, but as I had never before pulled out of a race decided I wasn't going to start now. Did a quick hammy stretch and resumed - must have looked like pegleg Pete - the racewalking action is strange enough at the best of times. Held on for second in about 14:30. No real further damage to the hammy, just extremely tight for several days.

I finally went to my osteopath who always fixes this particular problem - he'd been on holidays so I was unable to see him earlier. Sure enough, he identified the condition and several manipulations later I was as good as new. I hope. Apparently the pelvis locks forward and holds the hamstring in a permanently stretched position which also pulls on the back. He ordered rest for two days then resume training. We'll see.

Meantime, on the bike at the gym, bit of swimming, exercises, etc. How. Very. Boring.

Get a life: get a dog.

Had a clean-up the other day. Packed up a large bag of blankets and towels and dropped them into the Lost Dogs' Home.

Checked out the dogs while I was there. I swear some of the dogs were talking to me - with their eyes, their expressions and their whines; desperate to have a home. Some of them have given up on humans and just lie in the corner and ignore you.

Beagles, Pomeranians, German Shepherds, a Brittany, lots of Kelpies and mixed breeds, a few scary looking pit bulls and two beautiful Collies among others.

Want a dog? Go fetch. The Lost Dogs' Home. 2 Gracie Street, North Melbourne.

Another interruption.

Came out of Thursday's training session not so well. After the 10km race Monday and the 3k Tuesday, I had followed up with a light run of a couple of laps of Princes Park Wednesday and felt OK if a little tight in the hamstrings and back.

Thursday was 600, 400, 200 times three. Left hamstring tightened up in the second 600 so that was it. I've had this before and it's usually the pelvis out and pulling the back and leg muscles with it.

Nothing Friday or Saturady and a gym and pool session Sunday with water running, swimming, a burst on the bike and some light weights. Monday, a light run to test it - not too bad but not quite right yet either. I have a 2k walk race tomorrow night so we'll see how it goes then.

How to take dogs camping.

It's not that difficult. They curl up really small in the tent. And they sleep all night! Amazing! Except for once when they got wind of some wild animals. Here's what we've been up to the last couple of weeks.

Saturday January 10

To Rye for some running and dog walking. Fine and warm, ideal for the 6.75km Portsea Twilight Fun Run. A great run in perfect conditions with the sun setting on one of the great vistas where Port Philip Bay meets Bass Strait at the 'heads'. Harder than the distance might suggest - all hills for the first 5kms, followed by a 2km slog along the sand with a 600m sprint to the finish through the ti-tree. The sand on the beach section was hard-packed and easier to run on than last year so time was faster. Tracy ran the full distance and passed a couple of runners at the end.

Sunday 11 January

Goldie the Brittany still has her plastic anti-scratch collar on - she tries to run up the steps into the house and collides with them. But she's a determined little thing and is not put off. She just tries again. But we're not taking her out for coffee in that stupid collar. Just a light run to the beach and back today.

Wednesday 14 January

More back stuff - a visit to a natural medicine practitioner who specialises in back and spinal ailments. She's a wizard and knows just what to do. She's also a dog-lover with a big black Doberman whose photo sits on the desk in her waiting room. Cute. Email me for her number.

Thursday 15 January

Goldie to the vet. Stitches out and headguard off. Thank god for that. Aberfeldie for 3km walk - about 13:30 after Tuesday's 24:30 in the State League 5k walk at Doncaster.

Friday 16 January

Racing over for the week, so we took off on a camping trip around Victoria with the dogs on board. They love travelling - anywhere. We aimed to camp somewhere along the East Gippland coast.
Afternoon stop in Sale for cool drinks in a beer garden. Later, nearing Loch Sport, grey clouds gathered. Another twenty minutes - thunder and heavy rain. The weather can change in minutes in this part of Victoria. We headed back towards Sale, a distance of about 45kms, frantically twiddling the radio to find a forecast. As we moved away from the coast, the weather improved and in 30 minutes we were pitching our tent in glorious sunshine in a camping ground in Sale.

Saturday 17 January

Leaving Sale after taking an hour's walk around - and buying some bones for the dogs at one of the butchers - we headed inland as the weather looked like moving in off the coast. Lunch in Bruthen, an afternoon stop in Omeo and then we were into the mountains. A fairly easy drive into Hotham, and then the road down the other side was a serpentine nightmare. Finally arrived in Myrtleford, where we pitched our tent next to a river. A walk for the dogs around town finished the day.

Sunday 18 January
Beechworth, via what is surely one of the most picturesque routes in Victoria through Stanley. Lunch by the lake then on to Wangaratta and another camping ground, this time equipped with a swimming pool. Luxury! A dip then a big walk for the dogs.

Tuesday 20 January

Back to Rye, taking seven-year-old Canisha, now with two front teeth missing, with us for a couple of days. Went shopping for clothes in the surf shops, lunch at Blairgowrie cafe, lazed around, built sand castles on the beach and ran up and down through the shallows with the dogs.

Thursday 22 January

Took Canisha back to Melbourne then joined the group for a training session, first time for a couple weeks. Three 600s, two 400s and two 200s. Good, hard, refreshing session with a jog around Princes Park to finish.

Friday 23 January

The weather's great again, so a couple more days camping. This time, headed to middle Gippsland and arrived at Leongatha around five after leaving Rye mid-afternoon. The usual routine of a stroll around town with the dogs after setting up camp, then back for dinner.

Saturday 24 January

Stunning countryside through South Gippsland via Toora, a town overlooking Wilson's Promontory. Stopped there and walked around the town hoping to bump into Lisa but no sign - I didn't have her address. Tracy saw a cute old-fashioned hotel with accommodation and has made me promise to take her there for our anniversary. Stayed overnight at the Best Friend Holiday Retreat, a dog-friendly camping ground that sounds way too cutesy but was actually magnificent, nestled in the Tarra Valley and complete with five or six very large enclosed off-leash areas for the dogs to run free, a fully appointed kitchen and barbecues and a chattering river with waterfall two minutes walk away. Truly magnificent. An odd thing - while there must have been at least thirty dogs in residence, it was the quietest night I have ever spent in a camping ground. Ever. All we could hear was the river gently trickling over the waterfall. Figure?

Monday 26 January

Australia Day fun run at Rosebud. 10kms from Safety Beach along the coast to Rosebud. Is there a more scenic 10km run in existence? I doubt it. Finished 26 seconds slower than last year in 36.40 for eleventh place. Tracy ran 54 minutes in only her second ever 10km race.

Operation dog.

Eleven-year-old Goldie the Brittany went off for her operation to remove two lumps, a large one in her chest area and another on her right foreleg. Neither cancerous but potentially so.

Unfortunately it came at the peak scratching season - she'd be scratching like mad at the wounds so we have one of those dreadful flared plastic things around her neck so she can't tear herself to bits. She's going to have to go on the steroid anti-scratch drug but can't at the moment as it stops wounds healing.

She keeps bumping into things with the plastic thing, it's sad but funny, poor thing.

Billy the Greyhound can't understand why she's wearing it, probably imagines she's got her head accidentally stuck inside something after some doggy investigating.

Despite the eight inch stitched scar on her chest and the three inch one on her leg, she's still full of energy. And the appetite! My god, people don't eat like this when they come out of a general anaesthetic.