Running with Luna

Illustration by Ryan Miller.

Nonfiction

Watching my dog run is like watching a poetic tornado. Equal parts grace and destruction, ballerina and bulldozer. I have run hundreds of miles with her – in the snow, through driving rain, pounding the pavement, and gliding over leaf-strewn trails. I got her from a trailer park in Michigan. I was told she was half husky, but I know she’s mostly mutt. I swear she embodies joy when she runs. And her joy infects me. She runs because she needs to run, without running, her life would be incomplete. She lives her life by simple rules, rules that I admire, rules that I should adhere to, but too often fail to.

We ran this morning in what can best be described as falling ice-syringes. It was cold, and windy, and wet. I felt like turning around immediately after leaving the driveway, whereas my dog pulled me forward. Leash tethered to my waist, soul tethered to my heart. My mind wandered as we ran. I thought about my dad. I get angry when I think about my dad, even though he’s been dead for almost three years. I ran faster and the anger began to float away. I thought about ambitions, family, and living happy. I allowed my mind to go blank and focus only on the roots and rocks ahead of me on the muddy trail. I untethered my dog and let her run free.

I watched her leap over rocks and stumble over logs; I saw her thrash through the puddles and chase helpless chipmunks. I thought about how simple life can be if we just live in the moment and enjoy what’s in front of us. I thought about how it’s a lot more fun to jump in a puddle than to tiptoe around it. I thought about holding onto old grudges, of letting past failures serve as obstacles to current dreams, and allowing bad memories to cloud your future. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of all the anger, but even if it’s for a few miles, I know I can leave it behind me on a trail.

I have run hundreds of miles with my dog. She knows my emotions better than I do. Equal parts psychotherapist and best friend, training partner and chore. We will run hundreds of more miles together before our time together ends, simply because we need to run. Without it, our lives would be incomplete. We will run because even though she doesn’t always listen, and has a knack for destroying dishtowels, she just wants to be loved, and loving someone is the best thing you can do in life.

I am 33 years old and I wrote this essay after I went for an icy run with my dog in mid-May. I am married, have a 14-month old son, and teach high school.