The night before our trip I had an 8 pm performance — too late to make the drive to Cumberland unless we wanted to set up camp after midnight — so we opted for an early morning departure. We set the alarm for 5 with the hope of leaving by 6. This is at least three hours earlier than we usually get up. Bella was very confused by all the activity.
WHAT IS HAPPENING WHY ARE WE ALL AWAKE? I’m going to stay within 2 feet of you at all times to make sure you don’t abandon me.
We left at 6:30, 30 minutes behind schedule. Half an hour later Bill realized he’d forgotten to put the bike in the truck. We left at 7:30, 90 minutes behind schedule. Whatever, there were any number of variables that could set us back more than this. Mainly whether or not Bella would ride in the trailer. I was prepared to run after dark or before dawn (running with headlamp is very cool, feels like summer camp) but this was many more miles than we usually do. Generally if I’m going out for more than 8-10 miles I leave her at home. She can obviously run a LOT faster than I can but she also takes lots of breaks to sniff and swim and pant and chirp at squirrels, so she ends up slowing me down. We once did 20 together but I’m not really sure what’s too much. I don’t want to hurt her.
Are we there yet? We’re both carsick.
When we got to Cumberland we stood in the line for the touristy mule and driver photo before Bill left to return the truck. He’d then assemble the gear and pedal a couple miles back to the beginning of the C&O, eventually catching up with us.
We’ve covered 0.5 miles! Only 184 to go.
Didn’t take long before Bella had to poop — basically as soon as we were beyond the town’s trash cans. So now I’m carrying a warm bag of poop in a pocket of my hydration vest. In another pocket I’d stashed some snacks including a bag of leftover chocolate hummus. I did not want to mix up these items. Luckily we came across some garbage bags before long. They were out in front of a church and were tightly knotted. It seemed wrong to tear into the nice people’s garbage like a raccoon but I really wanted to be rid of this. I couldn’t untie either one and was able to expose only a very small opening — not dissimilar to a sphincter, now that I think of it — through which to squeeze the bag. Slowly, slowly.. praying for its eternal seal…
Sign says “There is no peace, saith the Lord unto the wicked.” I have rarely felt so peaceful. My burden had been lightened.
Evidently the mule-drawn boats covered about 4 miles an hour when this towpath was in use. We were at least moving faster than that! No matter how many times I told myself just to let this experience unfold I found it impossible to stop recalibrating pace, mileage, time, days. If we do 25 today, and she’s tired enough to ride in the trailer, I can still do 40 every other day and make it back to DC by Thursday! But I don’t really need to finish by Thursday. I can arrange a ride to the Kennedy Center, play my Friday morning rehearsal, return to the same spot on the canal, and continue the trip. I’d then have until 2 pm on Sunday to finish. The end of the C&O is less than a mile from the hall. It’s our Halloween Family show, and we’re supposed to come in costume. I’ll come as a gross sweaty runner. It’s been done before.
Backstage at the Kennedy Center with a violinist, straight from the 2015 Marine Corps Marathon.This was way more comfortable than the time I played the Halloween shows in my wetsuit.
It felt really good to be out there with her. The weather was perfect, the scenery actually pretty nice, not just a green tube. There were visible hills and farms along the way! The flat didn’t even bother me. Part of my aversion was fear of my own overuse injury — technical trails with hills give you the opportunity to switch up your stride, use different muscles. But at least for now my legs felt great and we settled into a comfortable trot.
Stepping out of the flat green tube to read a historical marker
There was no cell signal for a long time so I didn’t have any clear idea when we’d see Bill again. There had been no drama when we parted — Bella definitely looked back a few times to see if he was coming, but she’s used to going on walks with one or the other of us. In other situations she gets very upset. We’ve kayaked together and if we drift too far apart she starts to cry, stands up in the boat, and launches into the water. She swims to the other person and climbs aboard, only to realize we’re still not together. We took her stand up paddle-boarding with a friend. One kayak, two SUPs. She traveled among the three of us and one by one flipped us into the water. We got some adorable photos of her on the SUP but the camera ended up at the bottom of the Potomac.
Somebody panicked when I went inside the green box so I let her come in.
I was concerned that she wasn’t drinking. Some humans can’t go to the bathroom anywhere but home. We’ve already established that she doesn’t have that problem, but she doesn’t tend to drink anywhere but home. Not even on hot DC days when restaurants put bowls out for the neighborhood dogs. When we run in the park she can cool off and drink in the creek, and her mighty immune system has thus far protected her from giardia. (By way of contrast, Bill managed to get giardia in France.)
At some point she saw a trail leading off the canal and decided we should take it, across a large field. Did this mean she was done and hoping to find the car? Maybe she was looking for a creek to jump in. The trail led to a historic cemetery and I was able to text Bill where to find us. She jumped onto the bench with me and we gazed at the graves. Then she hopped off and started wandering into the woods. I felt pretty sure she was looking for the creek since it’s always a feature of our runs at home. I called her back and tried again with my water. She wouldn’t drink out of her collapsible bowl but if I took some water from my drinking tube and spit it into my hand, she’d drink from that. Or even directly from my mouth. It’s come to this. My dog is drinking from my mouth.
Paying her respects to the dead
You are here. We are a LONG way from Georgetown.
A text from Bill came in and he wasn’t too far back, so we returned to the trail and continued running. I hoped that if we all sat down together, she’d eat and drink (haven’t mentioned, but she also wasn’t eating), maybe even crash out in the trailer and tolerate being pulled. Soon we reached the first lock house, at which point we’d done nine miles. There was a big map and recreational guide, so I stared at it and started up once more with the calculating.
A guy came out of the parking lot with a fishing rod and asked if I needed any help. I said nah, just sort of getting my bearings. It’s our first day out here. I fired off a barrage of questions. What are you up to, do you live around here, what are you fishing for? He was fishing for catfish. He had a definite local rural
sort of vibe to him — dress, manner of speaking, knowledge of the area, references to catfish… it was a picturesque setting and he would have made my photo awesome. I asked if he minded posing with my dog, told him this was something I like to do when I travel, taking pics of the people and places I see. I didn’t want him to think I was some city slicker fascinated by the local wildlife, though I guess it’s true. I mean, I try to be respectful of actual local wildlife too but what made him interesting and beautiful to me was that he was a glimpse into a different world, a snapshot of a moment of my journey. What snapshot or anecdote doesn’t contain certain amount of projection? Anyway I told him I totally understood if he wasn’t into it. He wasn’t into it. We wished each other a nice afternoon and he went on his way.
Soon Bill arrived and it was the greatest thing that had ever happened. We had some lunch, shared our adventures thus far, got Bella to drink approximately one tablespoon of water, encouraged her to climb in and out of the trailer… but there was no way she was settling down so off we went again. Now that she knew he was on the trail, every parting involved crying and a period of readjustment. The reunions were always the greatest thing that had ever happened.
Shortly after he took this pic Bill rode passed us, causing a feeling of great loss for our little pitbull heroine.
I let her lead and sometimes we walked and sometimes we ran. There are certainly a lot of people who run much faster than I do and that presents one set of potential mind traps and self-doubt. Going with someone slower presents another.
I tried to draw on my experience of traveling with people who move slower than I do, so I could stop fixating on reaching any particular destination, achieving any particular goal. The internal dialogue was exhausting. The nature of this trip was that she and Bill were my SAG wagon. If they weren’t with me I definitely wouldn’t be doing 184 miles in 5 days because I’d be carrying all the gear. So, that trip doesn’t exist. The trip that exists is this one which I am sharing with these two creatures I love. I didn’t even mind (too much) if we’d wasted 200 bucks on the trailer. That’s not much to pay for a nice family vacation even if we never use it again. Still my mind returned again and again to the numbers. Who cares? Nobody cares how many miles you do! Stay in the moment ffs.
Around the 16 mile point we all met up again and went through the same routine — OMG I’M SO HAPPY I THOUGHT I’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN, sure I’ll sit in this trailer and pant for a while, nah not thirsty or hungry, NO DON’T LEAVE ME!
We decided to stop in another 6-ish miles and Bill rode ahead so he wouldn’t have to set up camp in the dark. The twilight running was really nice. There was a lot of wildlife activity on the canal and in the forest. I realized too late that I had forgotten to grab my headlamp from the bike so we ran the final 30 minutes in the dark. It wasn’t a big deal; Bella could see where she was going and she was in the lead. When you can’t see where you’re going, a flat non-technical trail is perfect.
Sweet late afternoon light
Prior to this trip we had only camped a couple times with the dog and all the new noises and smells kept her on high alert. We hadn’t been convinced she enjoyed it. Even when we travel by car to other people’s homes she’s a bit out of sorts until we’re finally in bed. So we’ll see if she ever manages to relax. If tomorrow is another 20-ish mile day, that’s the end of even hoping to finish this. It will be a relief in a way (maybe my stupid mental chatter will ease up) though it also means we’ll have to figure out how to get all this gear home. Oh well, that’s days away.
Sooooo sleepy.