Every day I can see how old Tank has gotten, and it kills me. I feel like I've wasted his life over the last few years. We've done so much together, were so active back in the day. When I lived in upstate New York, we would go hiking every single day; either in the Finger Lakes National Forest or the upper rim trails around the gorge in the middle of town (Watkins Glen).
I'm so grateful that I was able to spend that time in that way with my puppy. He's a hound mix, so all he's ever wanted to do is sniff everything. Our hikes were perfect because there was plenty to smell and no one around to bother us. Weekends we'd more often than not go camping. I'd make Tank climb to the top of the fire tower with me. He hated it. Sorry, Tanker.
It was one of (if not the) best times of our lives. I never went anywhere without my dog. Except for work, of course. Now I feel like I never see him, and he's so ... old. I'm probably going to jump off a bridge when he dies. I'm telling you that right now. I love that dog so much, I get choked up just thinking about him sitting in my room, waiting for me to get home.
Gad.
Anyway, I need to get strong for these races coming up. Zombies in August, Warriors in September. I won't survive if I don't train. Seriously. Plus, running is the only thing that quiets the anger raging inside of me.
Time to get ready for work. Bleh. Therapy tomorrow. Yay.
