Super Hiker Dog

The first time we came across a stream that required hopping from rock to rock, we picked up Nietzsche and carried him across. He came along for the hike, but we knew our highly opinionated dog prefers not to get wet, so we “portaged” him across.

But that didn’t last long.

By about the fourth or fifth such brook we crossed (a very wet hike), Nietzsche was fording his “river” by himself. We laughed when we saw his skinny white legs submerged in mud nearly up to his stomach, but he just shook himself off on the other side, happy to be on solid ground again. We jokingly asked him if he liked his swim, but he just cocked his head, silently saying “Can we proceed, please?” He never gave us the ultimatum on the bank, running in the opposite direction before unwillingly being carried across. No, he was enjoying it. And by the time we hiked back to the car the next day, he was voluntarily splashing in and out of the water, not even attempting to keep himself dry by rock-hopping.

Nietzsche is a trooper, that’s for sure. And he makes hiking and camping more fun, I’ve decided. When you don’t have TV or radio or anything other than trees and the long path ahead, you can quickly run out of things to talk about, especially five hours into the woods. The ennui of the forest sets in fast. But when you’re with a 12-pound puppy standing barely a foot off the ground, watching him navigate what must have seemed as strange as Mars to his suburb-dog upbringing, the entertainment never ends.

Sure, he slept like a baby the entire drive home, and is likely happy to be resting his tired muscles and bug bites all week long in a quiet, dry, and empty apartment. But Nietzsche doesn’t regret being included on our camping trip. Because, just like humans, dogs like to stretch their legs and breath in the fresh mountain air, too.

Next time, I think he’ll carry his own backpack with food and water, maybe.

Anyway, here's some pictures from our backpacking trip into the Pemigewassett Wildnerness in NH. Enjoy!


Nietzsche was Evan's "right hand man" when it came to navigating the fork in the trail, and even though they butted heads a few times, we found our way out of the woods.


Puppy and me like to spend lots of Q-T together


Especially when Evan is sleeping


But when there's food around - forget it!

Dead Running

What better way to motivate people to run 4.2 miles than to choreograph the race to laid-back, fun-loving tunes? I guess that’s the idea behind the 2006 Jerry Garcia Memorial Run in Cambridge on July 27, which will soon become Evan’s and my longest road race yet, literally going the “extra mile” beyond the manageable yet typical 5K.

It’s going to take a little more training to ensure that the race will be more fun than grueling, but hey, I’m up to it. Because I know that when I pass the two-mile mark and my lungs start to ache with that all-too-familiar burn and tightness, that the tunes of the Grateful Dead will be just what I need to keep those feet tapping along the pavement. And in that final mile, when my mind will inevitable scream “the 5K is over!”, the sea of tie-dye’s bright colors on the backs of my fellow racers will wake me up and push me to that finish line. Not to mention the promise of the after-race barbeque. Food always motivates me.

It’s going to be a great time, for the music, the atmosphere, and the fun times. And I’m looking forward to it not only for the achievement of completing a 4.2 mile road race, but for the good times that I’m sure we’ll have that night. The organizers of this race have it right: Make it fun and tempting, and people will stretch themselves farther to participate.

They’ve already got me salivating over the Brie Burger race in August, after all. Now that sounds like a good time.

Boston, you're my home

Leaning against the railing above Memorial Drive last night, staring up at the Boston fireworks, my face radiating glee and delight, it struck me: This is a fantastic city. I love Boston.

How could I not? Where else could I live far enough away from the hustle and bustle to let my dog jump out of the car and stroll the street without a leash if my hands are full of bags and groceries, yet still be close enough to reach work, play, Downtown and Harvard Square within 15 minutes on my bike? Where else can I be part of a crowd of half a million people stretching a half mile on both sides of the Charles River and yet still run into five friends within one 500-meter stretch? Boston is like a city and a town in one, I’ve decided.

It’s going to be tough to leave, if I ever do. I know I’ll miss the mix of city, suburbs and mountains and the one-of-a-kind blur they make as they all come together. I’ll miss being able to spend one hour kayaking up and down the river and the next feasting at one of Cambridge’s delicious and unique restaurants. And I’ll miss the close proximity to New England’s most beautiful places, with an ease of escape you don’t find in many big cities.

But for now, forget about all that missing. I’m not going anywhere yet. Not for a while. As I watched the fireworks spray their colored lights across the sky to the tune of Aerosmith and the Boston Pops last night, I was sure of one thing: Boston may not be the end of the road for me, but for now, it’s home.