The Joy of Running “Paw”rtners

Running has been a part of my life for nearly 30 years. I’ve run long solo miles through the forest, ran the New York City Marathon with tens of thousands of other runners, ran along the Continental Divide trail with other ultramarathoners, and, for the past few years, have run with the Trail Sisters of Bend, Oregon. While each of these experiences fills my cup with running joy, it is the daily runs with my dogs that have gotten me out the door the most.

My first dog in my 20s was a short-legged, yet extremely athletic Cocker Spaniel I named Samuel. My husband and I got married and moved to Bellevue, WA, where I would take Sam on short runs around Weowna Park, an old growth forest near our home in Bellevue, WA that was full of trails, creeks, and waterfalls. While Sam loved to run, his real passion was tennis balls. At the time, I was running for fitness, mostly on shorter jaunts and never really pushed Sam beyond a couple of miles. I also knew very little about how far dogs could realistically go. I took Sam on runs, but I wouldn’t say he was my running partner.

We lost Sam tragically to cancer at 10 years old and I missed our runs together. When we were ready to adopt another dog, my interest in longer distances was brewing and I wanted company for training. I researched high energy breeds that could build endurance and enjoy the challenge of learning to run next to me on leash and stay close when off leash on the trails. I decided on an Australian Shepherd puppy who we named Alta.

Alta was a challenging puppy. She took her herding breed instincts to heart, nibbling at our pajama bottoms with her sharp teeth as we sleepily potty trained her through the rainy winter. We worked on redirecting her energy with leashed walks, but she would bite the leash and sit in the middle of the street, crying as if we were torturing her. I remember breaking into tears at one point, telling my husband, “I got a dog to run with me and she won’t even walk!” Of course, she eventually grew out of those puppy behaviors, and we enlisted a professional trainer to help her get used to the leash.

When Alta was about a year old, we moved to Alki Beach in West Seattle. I took her to the vet for her one-year vaccinations and asked the doctor if she was physically mature enough to start running. He chuckled and said she was absolutely ready and would probably run circles around me very soon. We started slowly, with a mile along the paved beach path, and increased it week by week. Sure enough, Alta loved running our daily 5-mile beach loop and progressively longer weekend runs to Lincoln Park, south of Alki. I trained for several half marathons and Alta ran every mile of training, up to 11-12 miles at a time. While running with her kept us both fit, it had another side effect. We bonded through this routine and relied on it to get through every season.

About five years later, we had an opportunity to move to Jackson, WY for my husband’s job. We lived just a half mile from the National Elk Refuge where thousands of elk spend the winter months. Dogs are allowed on leash on the refuge’s main dirt road and that became a regular running spot. Jackson is also where my love for trail running really blossomed. The Cache Creek trail system was also a half mile from our house, with trails that wound through the aspens and along the creek. We integrated regular off-leash runs up Snow King Mountain, the in-town ski hill that locals regularly hike and run to get vertical training in the summer months. We ran through brutal snowstorms and I donned nanospikes to keep upright on the ice. Alta had booties she wore when it got below 15 degrees, but those days we mostly walked her while I begrudgingly took to the treadmill.

When she was 11 years old, Alta tore her anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) when we were hiking with a friend. The vet thought that it was probably a tear that happened over time and the hike was the last straw for the worn knee ligament. The vet said that her fitness was peak for an 11-year-old dog. We got her into surgery and prepared for months of recovery. Within about five months, Alta was back on the trails, though a little slower. She seemed to like off-leash running best when she could go at her own pace and rest when needed. Unfortunately, Alta tore her other ACL when she was 14 years old. We went through surgery again but her running days were numbered. We enjoyed nice, slower walks for the next year and a half that she was with us.

Losing Alta crushed me and my husband. We had moved again just before she died, this time to Bend, OR. We were going through so many life changes of our own after the global pandemic and losing her felt like more change than we could handle. I had been running on my own for a couple of years, alone with my thoughts and without a dog by my side.

As we were warming to the idea of another dog in our lives, we went on a hike near Bend. We ran into another hiker with the most beautiful, pure white Golden Retriever. Her name was Sage, and she was bouncing along the trail, clocking twice as many miles as the human hikers. My husband and I got home and immediately started researching English Cream Golden Retrievers, the lightest color of Goldens in their array of whites, golds, and reds. It didn’t take long before we were welcoming our sweet male puppy, Yeti, into our home. He was a chubby little mischief-maker with the same sharp teeth Alta had, yet without her herding instincts.

We began training Yeti with the leash and he had the same “sit and refuse” approach that Alta had 16 years earlier. This time we knew how to handle it. We enlisted a trainer and sent Yeti to “camp” where he learned basic commands and how to deal with distractions. Last spring, Yeti celebrated his one-year birthday with some camping, hiking and standup paddle boarding. We started gradually taking him on longer hikes, building up his endurance while not putting too much pressure on his young joints. We regularly hiked four miles up and down Tumalo Mountain and took him backpacking in the shadow of South Sister. We worked on his off-leash recall and rewarded him handsomely with treats.

This fall, I started taking Yeti for the first mile of my run. I would then drop him at home and finish my miles. I increased our distance slowly, from one to two, three and four miles. I took him into the woods behind our house and ran him off-leash along the Deschutes River. We took breaks so he could take a plunge in the river or, more recently, roll in the snow. He’s now my running partner.

I doubt that Yeti will ever run the distances that Alta, a smaller and more energetic dog, did with me. But I can feel our bond becoming stronger. Whenever I pull on my running shoes, he comes to the door, does a downward dog stretch, and looks at me with anticipation. He knows this is what we both need. We need the joy of running together.