Oh the perils of my morning jog

Today I discovered that I am not immune to running injuries. I had always wondered when a knee injury would creep up on me, or when I would trip over a root or the sidewalk and take a nasty fall. But I never took seriously the threat from other living things. Most notably, dogs.

I have been barked at, chased down the street, growled at, and snapped at, but never before did those canines succeed in getting me. Until today.


Yes, today - down by Johns Plain, behind ShopSmart, I got bit. By a mangy dog. I was already aware of the dogs in this area - that their owner doesn't keep them tied, that they like to chase me - and cars, and birds, and various other things I've seen them give chase to! But I need to run down that street to connect with the rest of my route. A detour, while possible, is not convenient. So I endure the dogs, their barks and chase (I was more concerned with tripping over one of the 4 or 5 of them as they gathered near my feet).

The wound is not deep, but my innocence has been shattered. Never before - in six years of running - had I taken a bite from a dog. Tripped - and bit the ground solidly [in front of a bus full of OU students on their way to class, no less]? Yes. Skinned my knee after falling over a root on a California trail? You bet. Cowered in fear in Denver as a huge - and loud - dog jumped out from behind a wall [where the only thing between him and me was a measly 3.5' chain-link fence]? Oh yea. But given my own blood to a measly mut? Not until today.

I argued with the owner - after waking him up with all the racket his dogs were making - but secured no promises from him to tie them up. I plan to return to the scene of the crime in 2 days time, this time wielding a stick. (Now I know why I saw a man and his wife walking down that way 2 weeks ago carrying a golf club!!)