Friday was a planned day off.

Saturday morning I joined the Philly Runners group run for a trip around "The Loop". Easy miles until the Falls Bridge turn around. Raymond and I then picked it up to 7:00 pace for a couple. Raymond commented how this pace was just junk mileage for him, to fast to be easy and to slow to be an interval or tempo pace workout. He was right. We either had to speed it up or slow it down so we did the former. The last couple went by in 6:40 and 6:25. It felt good. 10.5 miles in about 80 minutes.

Sunday I hit the trails in the Wissahickon. I stayed away from the very hilly portions and headed for the flat technical section across from Forbidden Drive. I tried to keep the pace relaxed and easy but it can be difficult for me on the trails. I was hot and sweaty by the time I turned around at Valley Green and looking forward to the water fountain... that was not turned on yet.

What the hell? This has irked me for years about the Fairmount Park system. How hard is it to turn a valve and get the water fountain running? The water fountains seem to sporadically get turned on across the Fairmount Park system. Give me a truck and a wrench and I'd easily have all the water fountains turned on in a single day. Instead we have to play a guessing/hoping game for functioning water fountains. By April 29th I think the chance of freezing and bursting pipes is pretty negligible.

Enough ranting. Finished up the run on Forbidden drive. A little over 8 miles in 65 minutes.

For the week.

34.4 miles running and 17 miles biking.

Sub 14:00 5K

Last night Heather and I headed over to Franklin Field to check out a few events at the Penn Relays. We saw several steeplechase events, a women's 3000 and then the 5000 meter championship for college men and women. The highlight of the evening was definitely the mens 5000 meter championship.

Two runners peeled away from the lead pack in the last couple laps. The leader in the final lap was passed going into the last turn. It looked like the race was over and the guy who got passed was going lose. Suddenly, with about 60 meters to go, the runner who had been passed had an explosion of speed. A surprised and cheering crowd saw him blow by his competitor to edge him out for the win in just under 14 minutes. Wow. A truly inspiring performance. Watching events like that just make you want to run more to improve your own performances.

As for my running... I have only 6 miles on Thursday morning to report. An easy out and back along Kelly Drive. Things started off at 8:00 pace and slowly increased to about 7:20 by the time I finished. I passed Veena, Chris, and Craig on his bike while on Kelly Drive.

The morning running is nice, it's almost like I sneak in a workout. I have my evenings open for whatever I want, including another workout. I tried to get out the door this morning as well, but the sound of thunder when I woke up made for an easy decsion to roll over and go back to bed.

Marathon Pace

Drove down to the Tuesday night run with Heather on a beautiful spring evening. I started off more quickly than I would have liked and the first mile went by in 6:45. I fell into step with Stevus and a couple other guys and we kept this pace up through the turn around. I was pushing to hold the speed and it seemed really fast. It suddenly dawned on me that it was almost exactly marathon pace (for the first 18 miles of the marathon at least) and damn if it didn't feel about twice as hard as it did in Boston.

I kept it up for about 1/4 mile more and thought "Why the hell am I doing this to myself?" Dropped the pace into the 7:15 range and took it easier the rest of the way to the Art Museum. For some reason Boston seems a lot further back than 9 days but my legs definitely remember it.

I want to run well at Broad Street on May 6th, but I think taking it easy would be much more of a benefit that pushing myself right now. It feels like I have no chance in hell of breaking my 61 minute time from last year. In my head I know I have gained a lot of fitness in the past year and I should be able to break my time but I just can't wrap my head around 6:00 minute pace or better for 10 miles. A couple guys who ran Boston in 2006 had big PR's at Broad Street and I am hoping for the same despite how far fetched that pace seems at the moment.

Monday Morning

I got my ass out of bed to run by myself this morning! To the morning runners out there this doesn't seem like much of an accomplishment but for me it is big.

I had reset the alarm to 6:25 and planned another 35 minutes of sleep but as I tried to fall back asleep I was yelling at myself to get out of bed. It actually worked and I threw on my clothes and got out the door. Once out there the beautiful morning made me very happy with my decision. 4.5 miles in 33 minutes. Felt good.

I rode my bike down to the Art Museum to watch the 5K for Clean Air that Both Ian and Seebo happened to be running. Seebo was chasing a so far elusive sub 16:00 5K and Ian was testing out what seemed to be a new pair of bionic legs.

I missed them at the start but saw them finish, both solidly under the 16:00 minute mark. Watching friends run a good race is almost as good as running one yourself. This especially holds true when you know how much work went into hitting those goals.

As for me, I ran 4.5 miles Friday morning with Lee, a guy I work with. Lee is traning for an Ironman in September and I don't really think he knows what he is in for. I guess I don't know what he is in for either but I sure as hell wouldn't want to run a marathon after a 2.4 miles swim and 120 on the bike.

Hopefully this will turn into a twice weekly morning meeting. It's is tough for me to get out of the bed to run in the morning and this might be just what I need to get into morning mode. My legs felt tight but okay and teh run really seemed to loosen them up for the rest of the day.

Boston

The dreary weather outside the train window was forecasted to get even drearier but that couldn’t put a damper on my excitement to finally be on my way to this race. Boston has been a goal of mine since finishing the Baltimore Marathon in 2004 and now after many miles, many new running friends, and many high’s and low’s, I was on my way. Fuck the weather.

I was rooming with English Mike and we were headed there together, we got to our room, went to the expo and got our race packet, got a big plate of pasta and got to bed. The wind was howling outside and the rain was pounded against the window but the local forecast called for clearing conditions just before race time. I think Mike and I both went to bed with out fingers crossed.

In the morning we made our way down to Copley Square and lined up for the bus. It was pouring rain and quite windy but our spirits were still high as we chatted with a few other people in line. As promised the ride out to Hopkinton seemed like forever and I think it was compounded by the fact that you could not see out the fogged up windows.

After about an hour I was itching to get off the bus, we unloaded onto a mud covered field. The rain had let up a little but the mud was everywhere, unavoidable, especially when you really didn’t know where the hell you were going. Luckily we had planned ahead and I had my dry running shoes and a fresh pair of socks to throw on before I handed over my bag and headed to the start.

The rain had been sporadic and light since getting off the bus but it started coming down heavy as I headed to my corral. I got into the corral with a few minutes to spare and miraculously the rain stopped just before the start. I didn’t know it at the time, but it would only return for a couple brief periods during the race.

Actually, during the race the weather didn’t seem like a huge factor. The wind was virtually nonexistent for the first 5 miles and then popped up hear and there often at especially bad times such as a big hill but overall I didn’t think about it much. It was 48 and overcast, great racing conditions. It obviously had an effect when you look at the male and female winning times, the slowest for the males since 1977, but for me it was hard to notice a big difference during the race. So I am going to shut up about it.

I promised myself to hold back in the first couple miles but it was hard to gauge on the steep downhill. First mile went by in about 7:20 and the second was just over 6:40. I was feeling great, finding my groove early and was plugging away. It was mostly downhill for the first several miles with some uphill mixed in. The course passed by a lot of single homes with families out there cheering us on. It was nice.

Surprisingly I saw Devon at about mile 4, said a quick hi and tried to ignore a cramp that had popped up in my stomach. A ½ mile later the cramp was gone as quickly as it had come and I was just trying to take it all in. The miles were going by quickly and they were all at, or just below my goal pace of 6:48. Before I knew it mile 10 passed, I was on pace and was feeling OK. Not terrific but definitely not bad. My breathing was smooth and I didn’t feel like I was pushing to hard.

I was concentrating on splits as we went by mile 12 and I had forgotten all about Wellesley College. The wind was blowing from that direction and on the wind I suddenly picked up the sound of a 1000 screaming girls. “My God! People aren’t exaggerating; you really can hear them a ½ mile away.” Like a distant roar that grew louder with each step. Despite the build up from past runner about this part of the course I was still floored.

I couldn’t help but join in the excitement as I ran by. I was giving out high fives like they were going out of style, cupping my hand to my ear and getting bowled over by the increase in screams. It was more than I thought it would be and the perfect pick up as you head up a hill and into the second half of the race. It's also the reason mile 13 went by in 6:37 despite a hill.

This was where the marathon really started and I was just counting up the miles we approached Newton. Mile 14-16 were fairly uneventful, generally downhill and I just tried to keep an even pace and save some energy for what I knew was ahead. The first real hill was in mile 17, up and over Interstate 95.

I was feeling decent and I tried to slowly pass people as we went up the hill, not flying just making sure I wasn’t falling off the pace. Mile 17 went by in 7:05. I was happy with that. This was followed by more downhill and then a hard turn at the fire house and on to the Newton Hills.

At mile 18 in a marathon you are never feeling terrific but I knew I felt decent enough and was confident I’d able to get over these hills without losing to much. Thinking back about these hills I can’t really remember everything exactly. I was getting a little hazy as can sometimes happen later in the marathon. I can remember repeatedly thinking “This ain’t over until you pass that mile 21 marker, keep on it” Mile 18 – 7:05, mile 19 - 6:55, mile 20 – 7:11 and mile 21- 7:20. I didn’t want the miles to go below 7:15 but I wasn’t going to worry about 5 seconds. The hills were about as hard as I thought they would be after balancing all the hype you hear about them against the experiences of people who actually have run them.

So now I have 5.2 miles to go and 35:53 left before the 3 hour mark passes. I wasn’t feeling to hot at this point but I knew if I kept the pace sub 7:00 I was going to break 3 hours. Before the race I had imagined this exact situation and thought if I could get myself to this point I would be able to hold until the finish. What you imagine isn’t always what comes true.

My body was revolting, it wasn’t a sudden thing but slowly building with every mile. I was pushing and pushing just praying that the splits wouldn’t start to tail off. I remember passing Boston College and turning onto Beacon Street but my concentration wasn’t too great. When the crowd kind fades off into the back ground both audibly and visually I know I am pushing myself into territory where things can quickly get bad. I was worried I was hitting the wall but didn’t want to drop off the pace.

In the Chicago marathon I never got to this point. I was fatigued racing towards the finish but always in total control. Chicago had dulled the memory of how things can get when you are pushing yourself at the end of a marathon and now in Boston I was getting a strong reminder. Mile 22 – 6:52, “one down, 4 to go”. Mile 23 - 7:07, “Shit, pick it up”. Mile 24 - 6:57 “Maybe I have a shot”.

I now had 15 minutes left and 2.1 miles to go. I couldn’t precisely calculate things at the time but I knew I was going to need to speed things up to pull this off, it just was not happening. It wasn’t a total collapse I just couldn’t seem to move faster or even hold my pace. Mile 25 - 8:03. 3:00 was now out of reach. I was let down and whined about it in my head for a minute or two but quickly realized I was going to PR in Boston, on a shitty ass day, and I had less than a mile to go. I am going to enjoy it.

I forced, what must have looked like the smile of madman, onto my face and concentrated on keeping up my 8:00 minute pace until I crossed that line. My mood followed the smile and I turned onto Boylston, saw the finish and despite how I felt physically, I was mentally elated. I crossed the line and waddled through the finish area. 3:02:45

Missed my goal but I still felt great knowing I had PR’d and it was done. Boston was done. We got word of the winner’s time as I walked through the finishing area and realized that it was 7 minutes off of the pace from the year before and easily 5 minutes slower than the average winning time over the last 25 years. That fact made me even happier. I felt like I had given it all I had out there. I raced just about exactly the race I wanted and it just didn’t come together in the end. I’m cool with that, I don’t think I could have done much better.

I looked through all other Philly Runner finish times and it seems everybody had a decent day despite the weather. Congratulations to all the racers and big props to Michelle, Ryan, and Devon who came up to cheer us along on a nasty day.

Tip Top

I'll tell you what, this taper thing really works.

I went out for an easy run after work, temperature was about 50 and the winds were light. Against my better judgement I hopped on the trails promising myself an easy pace on the flats and an especially easy pace on the technical portions. I don't need any trail running injuries at this point.

I felt like a well oiled machine on my first step out the door and that stuck with me for the four miles. I kept things easy until the very end where I couldn't resist a little sprint up the hill to the finish. 4 miles, untimed. My left calf has been tight at the end of my last two runs this week but there wasn't even a hint of that today.

As usual I feel like I am not doing near enough the last week of taper, I won't even break 20 miles. However, I don't think I have ever felt this good in the final week. Mentally I haven't felt that focused but physically I feel tip top. With a little weather luck I still might be able to pull this sub 3:00 hour thing off. I just have to get my mind into race mode.

Old Man Spring?

When there is a big event on the horizon, like say the Boston Marathon, you picture it in your mind for months leading up to it.

I have a picture in my mind of race day in Boston. Waking up early and taking the T down to the Bus Pick up zone. Being totally wired at 6:00 in the morning as I wait with all the other runners to hop on the bus for the long drive out to Hopkinton. I've never been to Hopkinton but I picture a large field or park surrounded by homes and filled with thousands of runners with buses dropping off more every minute. A bunch of thin people milling around with nervous excitement in their stomach, eyeing each others bib numbers and discussing race strategy. Snacking on this and that as I worry that I drank to much and get ready to line up.

Squeezing into the corral and trying to shake off the chill because I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt and it is 40 degrees out. The gun goes off and true to my word I hold back the first couple miles, keeping a short gait and saving energy and my quads on the first couple miles of downhill. People are lining the streets and cheering us on. After a few miles I get into the rhythm of the race and really open up my eyes to what is going on around me. Cheering fans, smells of bar-b-q, a lot of runners that look like they are a lot faster than me.

At the halfway point a mountain of screams from the girls at Wellesley. I have heard about these girl so many times that I think anything at this point can't meet my expectations of supermodels with skimpy outfits and bullhorn amplified screams. I am feeling good, in control but my mind is worrying about what is ahead. How bad are these hills going to be, do my legs still feel good, can I keep this pace up? I'd probably have some idea of how hard I can push on the hills at this point and I'd hopefully push over them leading up to Heartbreak Hill. Another part of Boston lore that just cannot be as bad as all this buildup indicates... Or maybe it can.

I crest Heartbreak Hill and I know that I have 5 miles of downhill or flat roads ahead of me. I'm checking my watch and attempting the mental calculations to see how fast I need to run to get under 3 hours. Of course mental arithmetic is nearly impossible at this point and I'm probably going to get it wrong anyhow, so I decide to just keep pushing and get those mile splits as low as I can. Can I do it, how am I feeling, where the hell is that Citgo sign I kept hearing about?

I cruise by all the drunken fans that were at the Boston Red Sox game and wish I was one of them instead of in the agonizing pain that accompanies the last 3 miles. Maybe I am close to my goal time or maybe I am a little behind but I am just happy to know it is all going to be over in 10 minutes. I cross the finish, hopefully with a fat PR on the clock, and a smile on my face. Hobble over to the post-race refreshments and then start looking for friends to finish.

In none of my imagining was there a gigantic winter storm in the forecast. I worried about it being to hot but I wasn't thinking Nor'Easter. I just have to take all the mental images from above and remove cheering fans, drunken red sox attendees, bar-b-q's and PR's. In their place I can put tropical force winds, driving sheets of rain, numb limbs and most likely one hell of a story.

One forecaster stated that if things turn out like all of the weather models are suggesting this will be the worst storm that he has every seen in April. I think he looks about 105 yrs old so that pretty much means worst storm ever. This should be fun.

On to my runs.

Monday Off

Tuesday 5 miles with the group. about 7:00 pace for the first three and then I slowed it down.

Wednesday. 5 miles in the Wissahickon. I really felt great on this run, bouncy, fast. Like I was ready to go.

Getting My Taper On

With only a week to go until race day I am in the heart of tapering. No run Friday, 9.5 on Saturday and 6 on Sunday. A very easy weekend.

Saturday morning I joined the group to go around the loop. Ran easy pace for the first 6 miles and chatted with Kev, Rob and new guy Andrew. The miles were around 7:50 pace and my legs felt great. Once we got to the St. Joe's Boathouse I pick things up to marathon pace and comfortably cruised to the finish at the Art Museum. A half mile before and after the group run gave me to 9.5 miles in 70 minutes.

I enjoyed one of the many bonuses of running with a group on Saturday night. A team that one of the Philly runners put together, won a 5K back in September and we enjoyed the spoils from that win. A dinner for 10 at the Fountain Room Restaurant in the Four Seasons Hotel. Five courses of good food, good wine and good friends. My first experience at a restaurant of that caliber and I enjoyed every minute of it. I just hope that the team needs me as a replacement this year too.

Friday was 6 easy miles in the Wissahickon. I didn't even glance at my watch until I finished. 6 miles in 46 minutes.

Falling into Place

Joined the Thursday nighters for a windy and flurry filled run through Fairmount Park. Definitely cold for April but it felt good as Ian, Jim, KJ, Ben, Alex and I made our way behind the zoo and over to Fairmount Park. A few people dropped off until it was just KJ, Ian and I. Then Kev had an extended stop with Silas on Belmont Mansion and it was just Ian and I to wrap it up on the MLK.

We both were looking to get in some speed for the last 2.5 to the Art Museum. I kicked it up to 6:00 pace and Ian pulled away at a much quicker pace. Hit a 5:58 for the first mile and a 6:10 for the second. I felt controlled and relaxed for both miles despite the pace. A good sign that I am recovering and that things are falling into place for the marathon. Wrapped it up at the Art Museum, Ian headed home and I headed up the steps a cool down lap around the museum. About 8 miles in about an hour.

8 easy miles on an out and back course along Kelly Drive last night. Just my iPod and I gliding along the riverbank as the sun set over the trees across the river. The weather has again taken a turn towards the cold and temps were in the mid-40's. The damp and chilly air had a feeling of late fall instead of early spring. Budding flowers on the cherries tress were the only telltale sign that this wasn't the case.

During runs lately my mind consistently wanders (I guess you can't call it wandering if it is always going to specific thought) to race day in Boston just under two weeks away. All of this build up over the last couple years is finally coming to head in a 3 hour stroll from Hopkinton to Boston. It almost feels like I am closing a chapter on my life, as if things will be different afterwards. Not that I think I am going to have some revelation upon crossing the finish line but maybe that this thing I've been doing 5-6 times a week over the past couple years just won't be as important anymore. I like the thought of that.

Early, inaccurate weather forecast for race day. 47, intervals of clouds and sunshine. I'm hoping that he forecasters have it right.

Pedals

For the first time in the two years that I have been joinning the Philly Runners on Tuesday nights, I biked to Art Museum. It seems odd to me that I haven't done it in the past. It's just a 5 mile ride down a bike path. I only have to cross 2 streets to get there.

I haven't ridden my bike in a long while, maybe last June, so I pulled it out to make sure everything was in working order. It's a well worn mountain bike that I bought about 6-7 years ago. I've replaced rims, tires, brake pads, and the pedals but everything else is 7 years old and it is starting to show. A couple years back half of my exercise was done on the bike. I spent hours riding up and down the rocky steep hills of the Wissahickon Park. I hope to get back into this mode but for the next couple weeks at least I have to concentrate on running.

Before hopping on to go to the group run I wanted to change out the pedals. The bike has "clip-in" style pedals that require special shoes which lock into place . To ride these pedals in my running shoes would make things uncomfortable. It's hard to keep your foot on a 1" square rolling piece of metal. The first pedal came right off, the second pedal wouldn't budge. I spent 20 minutes trying to wrench it off of the crank. My temper rose every time the allen wrench would slip. Mechanical things really can frustrate me when I can't get it to do what I want. It's a part of my personality that I don't really like but it can be hard to keep my cool, I have gotten better.

I planned on leaving by 6:00 to make the run. It was now 6:05 and I still didn't have the damn pedal off. The intelligent thing to do at this point would be to put away the bike, get in my car and drive down as normal. But I was angry and I didn't care if I had to duct tape the f'ing pedals to my sneakers I was riding this bike to the group run. So at 6:10 I hopped on the bike, did my best to keep my feet on the tiny pedals and raced to the group run. I had to really hustle to get there before it started and I was only going to make if the run started a little late.

Luckily it did start late and I was there just in time. There was a huge group on a sunny 65 degree evening. I joined Ian, Stevus, and Ben for the first mile or so. First mile in 6:30, quicker than I wanted and I debated dropping off the pack. The next 1/4 split was at 6:10 pace and I quickly dropped off of the pack. Mile 2 still went by in 6:36 and now I really decided to slow down. Dropped down to about 7:40 pace and kept this going the remainder of the way running with English Mike.

I rode the bike home after the run at much more leisurely pace. My legs are not at all used to biking and although I wasn't breathing heavy on the ride down my legs were burning like I was riding all out. It's going to take a little time to get used to the bike again.

12 easy miles in Wissahickon Park today. I really wanted to keep things at an easy pace so I set a target of 7:30s or better and if any miles were under 7:30 I would force myself to do a mile at 8:30 pace. This is a little different than my normal easy pace philosophy of run at what feels like an easy pace and if the miles are coming faster than you think they should, just go with the flow.

It worked. I was checking my watch as if it were a tempo run, making sure the miles were relaxed enough. In fact, it worked so well that I was soon running 8:10's without thinking about it to much. I made my way out to the to of the park and turned around. I ran into Heather at Valley Green and joined her for the remainder of the way. We stopped about 1 mile short of the end and went onto the trails to hike the last portion. 12.2 miles in 1hour 40min.

40.8 miles for the week. A week that started off horribly and ended very well. At least as far as running is concerned.

In topics other than running things weren't so hot.

Heather and I decided to get a dog several weeks back and diligent planner that she is, Heather had been scouring the web looking for puppies that fit the bill. Medium sized mutt, good disposition, liked to run and hopefully wouldn't drive us nuts with energy. Of course you can't tell all of these things in a puppy and the dog was bound to drive me nuts regardless but she found what looked to be a good set of puppies.

It was a rescue in Mechanicsburg PA, which is directly outside of Harrisburg. We drove out on a beautiful Thursday afternoon, looked over the many puppies they had and settled on a lab/collie mix that was 8 weeks old. She was a cute little thing with a very fluffy sable coat and white paws. She seemed calm and sweet, licking our faces and just generally had a good demeanor.

We filled out some forms, paid the adoption fee and we were heading back home with the puppy on Heather's lap. She was well behaved the entire way although she looked a little ill. Dogs tend to look ill when they ride 110 miles in a car, they just don't take well to driving sometimes.

We finally got home after stops at a couple stores to pick up items for the dog. Got in the door set up shop with a crate, food, toys, a little bed and of course played with the puppy. After a lot of debate, mostly on her part because it was more her dog than mine, we settled on the name Haley.

We got her out in my backyard and Haley promptly vomited. We chalked it up to the car ride and nerves, she seemed fine in every other way. Running around the yard, in and out of the house. She however wouldn't eat a thing, even treats, and seemed to be a little lethargic. Not really having a feel for the dogs personality we didn't think to much of it and just decided to keep an eye on her.

That night passed without incident, she was sick one more time and had diarrhea but she still was a happy little puppy. In the morning we were both a little concerned but we didn't want to be rash and take the dog to the vet just than, so I went to work. Heather was home with Haley and she continued to get sick and have loose stool. She made the call to go to a vet.

The vet gave her some fluids under the skin, looked her over and not much else. Said to keep an eye on her and if she continued to vomit, bring her back the next day. That night things got worse. The dog was starting to get slightly bloody stool and was still throwing up. She was getting less peppy and it was obvious that this was more than just passing distress.

We rolled back to the Vet on Saturday morning, with stool samples in tow. Up until that morning I hadn't been to worried but the dog now looked very sick. I didn't know it at the time because I had gone out in the morning for a run but she also had horribly bloody stool. Heather had quickly gotten attached to the dog, you couldn't really help it she was just so cute, and was getting very upset.

The vet took one look at the stool sample and sent us directly to the Hickory Run Animal Hospital out by the Plymouth Meeting Mall. The vet seemed to think that Parvo virus might be the cause. Parvo attacks puppies before they can be fully vaccinated and just rips up their intestines, and bone marrow.

Heather had already been suspicious of this and had been reading about it online that morning. If an infected dog can get cared for by an animal hospital it has about an 80% chance of living. Decent odds but I was still hoping that Parvo wasn't the case.

We got to the hospital and they quickly got her into an examining room. They took a look at the stool and did a test for Parvo. The dog came up strongly positive for the virus. Suddenly a puppy that had been just fine when we got her on Thursday afternoon was now being placed in hospital care on Saturday morning. The vet at the hospital gave her a 50% chance but I didn't feel to assured by her body language and tone of voice.

We headed home and went about our day just hoping that things would turn out ok. I got a call at 6:00pm. The dogs heart had stopped and they had done CPR. The dog was now intubated and they had given it a shot of epinephrine and atropine. Who even knew they could do these things for dogs. The vet said there was still a chance and she wanted to wait and see what happened.

Sunday morning I called and things had not gotten any better. The next step was an infusion but it would take a miracle and the dog was really suffering. We decided to end it then and have the dog cremated. I couldn't believe it. Just really bad luck for a sweet dog. We called the shelter to let them know and they told us that no other puppies had come down with the highly contagious virus. Strange.

I don't usually move to far from running topics on the blog but it has just been playing in my mind all day and it felt like I should write it out. I think we will get another pup soon but not for a few weeks.