Dog Eat Dog

I was feeling strong and approaching mile 25 of my casual Lewis & Clark Marathon training run when a 50-ish guy I was passing struck up a conversation.

"I run a marathon about every two weeks," he said. "I'm trying to run one in every state."

"That's cool," I said, intrigued enough to slow my pace and talk for a minute. "What's your favorite so far?"

"Coeur D'Alene in Idaho," he responded. "Spectacular scenery. You fly into Spokane and drive about ..." Just then we passed a large, unleashed dog standing next to his master on the side of the trail. I don't even know what kind of dog it was, as I didn't give it a second look and it wasn't threatening us.

"Control your f-ing dog or I'll kick its f-ing head in if it comes one f-ing step toward me!" screamed my new companion matter-of-factly. "It's a law that it has to be on a leash!" As we continued down the trail the runner turned his attention back to me: "I could sue him if that dog bit me. I've done it before. I've also had plenty of dogs put down after they bit me, which is sad for the owner but something you gotta do."

"OK, so I'll see you at the finish line," I said, picking up my pace.