The "Oh, Shiiiiit!" Moment(s)

......"When the dogs lunged forward, and as the right hand side of the rig made sickening contact with the sturdy, metal post, I said more than a few words under my breath"......



We've been running regularly. I can see the dogs improving already and gaining stamina. Right now, the hound team has 22 miles. It doesn't seem like much and in reality it's not a lot, but no run has been over 3 miles...so we've had quite a few hookups. The puppies are really impressing me. They're little bundles of energy. It's been a while since I've trained a pup (remember, Oakley is FOUR now!) so I've been racking my brain.

The highlight of the week: FLIPPING THE RIG! Put it in the history books. I've boasted that I'm untouchable on that thing...and I thought I was! Apparently my high horse shrinks a little when the maniacs take a corner at 19mph.

I had 6 dogs ready to go: Keytone and Fox in lead, Freddie and Brewer in the middle, and Sosa with Trotter in the back. I knew we were gonna be goin' fast....I had no idea. We were running on the road, so the first turn, technically, is a right out of the driveway. Needless to say, THAT is where I lost it. One hell of a run, eh? We made sure traffic was clear and I pulled the snub. The team took off like bats outta hell (or like sprint dogs out of the chute...clever?) and I called "gee." The instant I saw Keytone's head snap to the right in response, I knew I'd made a huge mistake. And it is here were I explain that my entire yard is fenced, so we have to go through the front gate to reach the road. When they turned too sharply, we were in danger of being hung up on the right hand gate post. Big danger. I've run this route successfully in the past, but I had started with the rig flush with the gate. Damn. My first thought was to keep the boys in back (Sosa and Trotter) from being slammed into the pole. Not a problem. I should have worried about what might happen a few feet south of them.....

I've heard it said and read about it, but nothing truly captures the actual feeling of one's very own OH SHIT moment.

The entire team had swung right while the rig and I had hardly moved an inch. They had taken the corner waaaaay too sharp with espresso for breakfast. When the dogs lunged forward, and as the right hand side of the rig made sickening contact with the sturdy, metal post, I said more than a few words under my breath. I KNEW the whole thing was going to flip. I literally remember concentrating so hard on front tire that, when I think about it now, I actually see in tunnel vision. It's funny, because I also remember thinking, "Oh man...the ground is wet!" WTF, right? I also remember thinking that I had never flipped it before, and so this couldn't really be happening. And then the left, outside tire caught an edge. I was air born.

Then and only then, was my O.S! moment complete. I landed on my left shoulder, still a white-knuckle grip on the handle bar, as the dogs dug in and dragged me for a few feet. Did you hear that? What wimps! After my harrowing crash landing, I didn't even get to display my "I am awesome and will now rite an upside down moving rig" maneuver. They all just stopped and stared back at me. Do not ask me how I managed to avoid landing UNDER the rig or how I swear to god I did not blink. But alas, all good action movies must come to an end. So, I stood and pulled the rig up with me. The dogs needed no ceremony- they took off. I hoped on and rode off into the sunset. Seriously.

You see, until this event, I thought that rig was my tool for world domination. Once atop, I was extremely self-assured and confident in my ability to finish a run in one piece. Now? I see myself as damn near awesome! Sure, I flipped that sucker like a newbie, but I hung on like the pro I am! Self-assured? Oh, it's so much worse. Try cocky. Or grab a thesaurus. They're handy.