The weekend was good, though. Friday night Landon and I stayed in and finished up whatever homework we had left and we went to bed around 11:00. I was up at 7 in the morning to go for a run. I was saving my 12-mile run for Sunday so technically that made Saturday my rest day, but the night before was leg day and I desperately needed to loosen those bad boys up after the hell I put them through. I decided I was just going to run 3 miles and come home to go snowboarding. It's funny, it's like my body knew I didn't have to be running; that this 3 miles was not on the schedule. Because I had ZERO energy. I only ended up going a mile before I turned around and I walked most of it. I was like, "FINE. I get it." So I got a little cardio in before we went boarding.
While this warm weather has been great for my runs, it's been awful for our snow. Even after the snow typhoon that blew through on Thursday, the snow on the mountain was mashed potato-ey and melty. It was feeling a little too much like Spring for a February morning, but it was beautiful.
Despite the lack of fresh snow, Landon is pro at finding untouched powder. Most of the time it's off in the trees and requires a lot of aggressive carving to manuver through, but that didn't scare me off. He's been making me push my comfort zone this winter and I've learned that I really can do anything I want; sometimes it means I have to twinkie my way down, but I can do it just the same. Plus, a girl will do pretty much anything for some virgin powder. (Not a drug reference.)
We haven't been to CS in quite a long time. Our favorite cast member moved to Washington and we've been mourning for a long time. But even without him there, it's the best entertainment in Provo and we were all in tears at some point from laughing so hard.
Sunday morning, I woke up at six to eat breakfast and pack my camelbak with all the snacks I was going to need for my 12-miler. The last time I did this run, it nearly killed me. I didn't really know what I was doing back then, though, and I was far more prepared this time around. In fact, the time passed by quickly and aside from sore legs and feet, I felt awesome.
Well- maybe not just sore legs and feet. I had an...encounter, if you will, about 4 miles into my run. With a dog. I was running up the sidewalk, it was around 7:30 and the sun wasn't quite up yet so it was a little dark. I was approaching a house that had a lot of cars in the driveway and when I ran out from behind them, I think I scared this dog that was outside with it's owner. I didn't even see them until the dog was charging at me, barking and snarling like Kujo. He lunged at me and latched on to the back of my leg, right above my knee. It scared the hell out of me and I yelped out in shock and pain. The owner was just as surprised as the dog and me and he came running after his dog. He began apologizing profusely as he spanked the dog on the butt. "I am so so sorry, he's just a puppy." He told me. He was darn bigger than a puppy, but I'm sure he was probably only a year or so old. "It's okay, I think I just scared him is all." I told the guy. After he apologized and asked if I was okay eight more times, I was running again. My leg was sore, but I didn't think it was that bad and I still had 8 more miles to run. After I hit the halfway point, I was heading back towards home and I was approaching the house where it all happened. I was on edge and scanning every yard for potential k-9 attacks. I passed the house and a couple more when I finally started to let my guard down. It was only then when I approached another house on a corner. I was running towards the backyard and it had a short wooden fence standing about 4 feet tall. I heard manic barking again and I came to an abrupt halt when a very large German Shepard appeared, he was standing with his paws on the fence and it was clear to both of us that it was not going to keep him in if he wanted to come get me. I froze in place and a second later and even larger Siberian Husky jumped up next to the Shepard barking and snarling the same way. The owners were in the backyard, one was sitting and the other was standing with a cigarette in his had. They both stood and looked at the dogs, then at me, they had the same frozen expression on their faces as I did. They started calling the dogs, louder and more desperately each time as the dogs started to move back and forth along the fence. I looked at the one holding the cigarette, "Are they nice?" I managed to squeak out. The question was fell stupidly to the ground as I started to back away; the hunger in the dog's eyes were enough to let me know that, no, they were not nice. I side stepped off the curb and into the street, putting at least 50 feet between us. They still jumped and barked and let me know that if I was to come a step closer I was as good as kibble.
I got past the house, adrenaline surging through my veins, and managed to make it home in one piece, though the back of my leg had started to throb. When I went upstairs, Landon was excited to see me and asked how it went. I pulled down my leggings and asked if I had a mark on the back of my leg. His eyes went wide and he gaped at me, "Did a dog bite you?!" He asked, horrified. "Yes!" I said as I crawled into bed. I began to tell him all that had happened on my run and when I got halfway through the part about the dogs on the way back I started to cry. Tears spilled over and I sobbed through the rest of the story. Landon was speechless and I felt so stupid. I don't know why I cried, except that I was emotionally traumatized. I'm a huge dog lover and when I told him I felt stupid and didn't know why I was crying, Landon hugged me and said, "It's because you feel so betrayed by something you love so much." Maybe that was it. Hopefully I'm not permanently emotionally scarred.