Pup Runner SF embarks

As I sit in my office chair with a dog I met only 20 minutes ago patiently dozing on the floor at my feet, it dawned on me, I should write about the things I'm learning.

So, here begin my adventures in Pup Running.

It all started with... well, really, I don't know if I could pin point how it started. I mean, one could argue it started when I moved to SF, but it could have been even earlier.

When I moved to SF I had been living and commuting from Alamo for almost a year, and was increasingly unhappy with the amount of time I spent being active and doing things I loved, like playing soccer. One day I was driving down Marina Blvd and saw a volleyball league taking place at Little Marina Green. There was a sign: Golden Gate Sport and Social Club. I made a mental note and kept driving. I can't be sure if it was that night, or perhaps another, but I googled it, unaware of the impact it would have on my life in this city.

I emailed the league about co-ed soccer and Mike promptly placed me on an "Indy" team. The season was already a couple weeks in.

Leaving the house the morning of my first game I was excited and nervous, and found myself in one of those rare moments where I am at once both outgoing, and shy. I trotted up to my new team, proclaimed my introduction, and then shut up while I sorted out this new group of teammates.

Now, this day is significant for a few reasons. It is the first day I met Erika and Kristoph Lodge, a brother-sister duo who grew up playing soccer and with whom I instantly singled out as kinsfolk.

Erika would later invite me to join a league at Telegraph field playing with Alberto's team, which would prompt her/us to start another team on Wednesdays, which her brother Kristoph would join, after enduring knee surgery and rehab (this story is years in the making). When we needed more guy players one season, Kristoph asked Irvine to join. Irvine is the father of Blu. I will come back to Blu.

Another reason why this day is so important in my path to today is that it was through playing soccer at GGSSC that I discovered co-ed flag football, Pain Train, and Greg. It was in my football career that I broke my finger. Well, actually, dislocated it. Pretty badly. Now, when this happened, I was only a few weeks returned from a broken foot (which took place in that aforementioned Wednesday night league) and thus very determined to stay off the I/R list (and I didn't have health insurance to boot). So, what does a girl surrounded by football guys do when she completely dislocates her ring finger in the middle of a grassy field and wants to avoid going to a doctor? She walks away from the group, takes a deep breath, and yanks as hard as she can. When that doesn't do it, she pulls again, but this time for real, and lets out a mildly loud swear word. Boom. Finger relocated. Swollen, bruised, painful, you bet, but in the right place and problem solved.

Or so I thought. Two months later, "the finger" was still... crooked. Visibly. I went to a hand doctor, who was great.

Fast forward a couple years, a second break of the same bone (shatter is more accurate), three surgeries, five screws, four wires and a case of athletic tape later...
I just had all the hardware removed from my finger. It's healing nicely, but there are holes in my already fragile bone. I'm cleared for "activity" but no contact, no falling, no soccer.

For better or worse, over the two-three years since I picked up soccer again, it has become, well, essentially, my life. I play as often as six days a week, in every league, night, format. Co-ed, woman's premiere, futsal.

This was the fourth time in a matter of just over two years I'd been told by a doctor I couldn't play soccer. I was about to burst through my own skin. On top of that, I had my upcoming woman's season to get/stay in shape for. I had no choice but to, gasp, run.

I never loved running. I was recruited for the track team in high school and only conceded when I was told I could pole vault all the time instead of running. I liked running even less on concrete. Even less when it was my only choice. Even less when it was suppose to take the place of soccer.

As much as I loathed running, I loooved Blu. Blu is my canine soul mate. She is a Samoyed. She is the prettiest dog you will ever see. She is well trained. She is not mine.
I know that it may seem odd that I fawn over another's dog this way, but what can I say, the girl is just that great. Blu likes to run. Hard and fast and long.

So began my first pup run. While Irvine would come up to the city to play soccer on Wednesdays, Blu and I would run. All over the city, up and down the Embarcadero, over a many San Francisco hills, down piers, up the different sets of stairs to Coit Tower.

Blu ran me back to health. We would wear each other out, but we didn't stop until an hour passed and we'd returned to Telegraph field. She was always game, but more than that, she was enthusiastic. I learned to love running by experiencing it through the eyes of a dog.

Although it's been almost a year since that last surgery, and I've been back playing for quite some time, I still run with Blu. I still run in general, but it's never as fulfilling as when I get to share it with a being that loves it much more than I. Knowing how much they love the camaraderie of the joint dash motivates me to keep giving them more, and more, of that sweet joy.

So, how did I end up with this dog at my feet that I barely know?
Craigslist.
I love Blu, but she lives in Menlo Park, and I don't get to see her, or run her, nearly as much as I'd like. So I posted an ad on Craigslist stating that I love dogs, and I want to run your pup, for free.

These are the tales of what came next...