Mad dogs and Englishmen

I'm English. I live in Wales. I have fallen in love with the place and learnt the language. I can sing "Yr hen wlad fy Nhadau" just as easily and with the same feeling as "Land of Hope and glory". I can support both countries in the Commonwealth Games, but if Wales are England are playing rugby, I'd rather go for a long run.

I say that to justify using the term "englishmen" in the title of today's blog. I'm merely referring to myself, just put into the plural because of the song.

Anyway, to finally get to what today's entry is meant to be about. Running and mad dogs.

Today was day 9 of the challenge. I am getting v tired but surprising myself in many ways. This is now the most days I have ever been running without a day's rest in between. I'm sure it's doing me good in a number of ways.

Quite often when out running, I come across dogs being taken for walkies. Some just look at me as if I'm mad (they're probably right!) some bark, some try to run with me, and some hounds would give Cerberus a run for his money!

Yesterday's encounter was hardly ferocious, but the 4-legged friend saw me from a distance away, ran straight up to me and barked and barked and barked, doing his (or maybe her, I didn't look that closely!) best to stop me from going any further. Height wise, the pooch was barely above my ankles, but could that dog yap! Thankfully, the owner knew exactly what to do to get the dog under control and allow me to proceed in peace.

I had another dog try to follow me this morning - it simply ran into the road and stopped the early-morning traffic. Thankfully it didn't come to any harm, and the owner had some harsh words to say to it as a result!

38 miles covered so far, and it feels good!