The Day My Run Was Stolen

It was a rough week at work and all I wanted was the weekend.  I had it all planned out.  Saturday morning, a seven mile run on the Newton hills, followed by iced coffee and a bagel.  Sunday, another five miles down by the reservoir followed by eggs and iced coffee.  Or maybe pancakes.  It would be the first time I had run more than six miles since the London Marathon.  The weather was going to be perfect, my legs were feeling good and I was going to get all the work stress out in these runs.  This alone time was exactly what I needed to re-charge my battery.

Everything was going according to plan until about mile three of my seven miler.  That is when I got attacked by a dog.  Ok, maybe it was more like tackled, but regardless I hit the pavement.  Instantly I went from being in full out running bliss to being infuriated in a way words can’t describe.  The dog owner expressed no regret for his dog’s actions and I expressed no regret in telling the owner my thoughts on his inability to control his dog.

With a bloody knee I decided to carry on with my run because I wanted it really bad.  I needed this run.  This was my run and I was not letting anyone steal it from me.  At first running angry seemed to agree with me.  I was owning the hills.  But by mile five, my anger got the best of me and the negative energy was sucking out my mojo.

I finished my seven miles but in a real sour mood which I blamed on the dog owner.  For the rest of the day I blamed the dog owner for taking away my run, for taking away the one thing that got me through the week.

When I woke the next morning, knee still aching, I realized it was not the dog owner who stole the run from me.  I stole it from myself.  Yes, the man was clearly not in control of his dog and clearly did not care for my well-being.  But I can’t control that, I can only control myself. I should have brushed it off mentally like I brushed it off physically. Physically I put aside the bloody knee, but mentally I couldn’t put aside the anger.

In the end my run wasn’t stolen, it was lost.  I lost the meaning to my running on that Saturday and I have no one to blame but myself.  Lesson learned.

Thanks for following.



  1. Althought “angry runs” help my training, you are right. Many times I have let stupid events get the best of me, running or not, it is a lesson. Thanks for sharing.

  2. That is an amazing way to look at a very difficult run Dawn. I hope your knee is fully recovered. Thanks for sharing.

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