Before the front door had finished creaking open, I could smell the overwhelming aroma of bacon, eggs, and French toast coming from the kitchen. I sat down in the kitchen next to my girlfriend, Bri, after returning from grabbing our morning coffee from the most favored coffee shop in town, Herman’s Boy. A grande iced vanilla cold brew and a vanilla latte, our go-tos.
We were scrolling through our phones while waiting to eat our breakfast when I came across the new Nike commercial on Instagram starring numerous athletes; stars like LeBron James, Serena Williams, and Tiger Woods were in it. The commercial brought to light each of their countless injuries, defeats, and hardships, but went on to show their triumphs that followed … down but not out.
“No matter how far down you may be, you’re never too far down to come back.”
After wiping our lips from a hearty breakfast, Bri asked me “Want to take Maverick to the T-R-A-I-L?” 8 years on this earth had expanded Mav’s vocabulary beyond just ‘walk’ and ‘treat.’
“Yes!” I responded ecstatically. Secretly, one of my favorite things was enjoying the outside world with a dog, especially Mav. They seem to never take for granted the miraculous yet minuscule things about nature.
We decided we would take the trail near Bri’s house towards downtown, a 4 mile round trip. I would bike and Bri would do her favorite activity, roller blade. The inkling to invite Maverick on the trip was because he seemed really unhappy when he wasn’t included during the coffee trip earlier that morning. Maverick, an old chocolate lab (although he’s often mistaken for a puppy) is as loyal and timid as they come. He is as part of the family as any dog I have ever met. He knows everyone’s routine, knows the perfect person to beg from in order to get food, and is ALWAYS up for going outside.
Today was a little bit different of a story. As we stepped outside with Mav, we felt the intense heat. The “feels like” estimated 91 degrees, and the humidity made it seem as if someone was sitting on your chest. Backpack packed and loaded with water bottles and a doggy bowl, we piled into the car for the 30 second drive to the trail. As we pulled into the gravel parking lot, Mav knew exactly where we were and was antsy to get outside, his wet nose leaving streaks on the inside of the car window. The trail is an 8-foot-wide paved road with bright green trees overhanging each side. If you look off into the distance it looks as if you are headed through a bright green tunnel. A peaceful sight, and I know the three of us were thankful that it provided us shade.
The trek got off to a fast start. Mav was unable to control his excitement and was eagerly setting a fast pace. The pace was so quick that there was no time for Bri to actively roller blade, she was just along for the ride as Mav pulled her on the other end of the leash. Passerbys seemed jealous of the effort, or lack thereof, that Bri had to put in. The first halt comes as we nearly hit a speed bump due to a turtle crossing. Surprisingly, Maverick paid no mind to the turtle. On the other hand, Bri had to leap over the shell in order to not hurt the animal moving in slow motion. We pulled over to the edge and airlifted the helpless turtle back to the side of the trail closest to the running river. Before we knew it, we were back to the strong pace led by the one and only.
Not long after the turtle incident, we arrived downtown. Maverick picked the spot we were going to rest as if he knew that was part of the written plan. He was laying down under the shade of a tall tree before Bri and I had even had the chance to discuss what we should do next. After taking the advice of the panting, drooling dog, we decided he was right. We set up shop underneath the tall oak tree and used its shade as our temporary relief. As Bri headed into town to grab a pizza and a salad, I stayed back with Mav. I got out his bowl and poured the first bottle of Dasani in his bowl. Before I even looked back up from wiping my hands of the water bottle sweat, Mav had gulped down the entire bottle.
“Sheesh, you were thirsty big fella. Here, I’ll give you a refill”.
Same thing.
“Two bottles that fast? How tired are you ya old man?”
He laid back down and closed his eyes. After about a 20 minute nap, a couple “hello’s” and sniffs to other dogs, Bri was back with the pizza.
The two of us sat down and crushed the pepperoni pizza faster than we ever have. We were hot, sweaty, sunburned, but at least our stomachs were satisfied. We joked about how tired Mav seemed, and enjoyed the live country music being played in the grassy park. We waited extra long to make sure he had enough time to recharge and would be able to finish the last half of our 4 mile journey.
Then, we headed for home.
The trip back home started off in the same manner the trip to downtown did, fast out of the gates. This gave Bri and I confidence that we didn’t give Mav too tough of a task and there was still gas in his tank. It seemed like the two water bottles and 3 pizza crusts had gotten his hydration and carbohydrate levels back to where he needed them in order to continue his strong pace.
We rounded a corner of the trail and were staring down the tunnel of the bright green overarching trees from the opposite side this time. “The Home Stretch” as we refer to it, because it stretches as far as you can see and means you are just a half mile from home. This is when Mav suddenly stopped. He found a grassy patch in between the pavement and the woods and fell over to a lay. Bri and I could only imagine what he was thinking. Was he hurt? Too tired? Grumpy? Did we push him too hard? This was so unlike him, although his tired actions in the park were atypical as well. We tried to hold back the panic as we were starting to worry Mav was overheating. We were far from home, with a bike, roller blades, and a dog that was starting to look like he may need medical attention. We stood there for a few more minutes to let him cool as Bri and I discussed our options. We could wait it out and see if that helps him, we could force him to get up and keep going, or I could try to carry him home. Sitting in the middle of no-man’s-land to wait didn’t seem too smart, but neither did forcing a dog to walk who already seemed to be pushing his limits. We quickly narrowed it down to the fact that I was going to have to carry him.
I gave the backpack to Bri as she stuffed her roller blades in the top. She adjusted the seat of the bike to fit her short frame and hopped on in her socks. I slowly walked over to Mav, talking to him.
“Alright dude, this isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but I got you.”
As soon as I came within arm’s reach, Mav hobbled up to a stand and looked at me. His ears perked up and his chest puffed out. He barked. The three of us all looked at each other with utter curiosity. Once again, Bri and I wondered what he was thinking. I came close again in an effort to pick him up. He stepped away and looked at us again.
I could only imagine how tired he was. We didn’t think through how much strain the heat would put on his body, and sadly he wasn’t the puppy he used to be. We had probably pushed him too far and both Bri and I felt guilty for that. He hadn’t run this far in a long time, because frankly, he has been in the quarantine routine too. His days had typically consisted of switching between the leather couches on each side of the living room as if to alternate between the cool sides of the pillow. We pushed him too hard and didn’t do him any favors by letting him go so fast for the first half.
Mav turned his head from us and began to walk down the trail again towards home. Bri and I didn’t say anything, just observing. We followed at his slow, rather gimpy pace, and didn’t say much to each other in fear of jinxing what we were seeing. Every 20 paces or so Mav would turn and look back at us, as if to say “You guys thought I’d let you carry me? I’m not finishing that way.”
Immediately my mind went back to the Nike commercial I saw that day. 91 degree heat, not in his best shape, started off too hot, couldn’t catch his breath downtown, couldn’t stand up on the way home … down but not out. No matter how much we put him through that day, no way he was being carried to the finish line. He had run that trail hundreds of times before and had made it every time, by no means was he being defeated that day. No matter how many cards were stacked against him, he was down but not out of the fight.
We made it back home and after we all chugged our fair share of water, we each headed to our spots. Bri sprawled on one couch, me on the other, and Maverick on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. Not much else was accomplished in that day as we all had no energy from the time we spent in the sun.
As I laid in bed that night I couldn’t help but admire the perseverance of Mav earlier that day. There was a lot to learn from a silly old dog. Not only did he smell every flower, leaf, and scent that each wind gust brought, but he took no second for granted on his trip outside. His life has changed just as all of ours have during quarantine, so he wasn’t going to let any second outside go to waste. Mav also did everything that day with full conviction. When he was on the trail, he was on the trail, present in the moment. He wasn’t daydreaming about the stress that work or school had pushed on him at that moment, he was just enjoying being on the trail. But most of all, when that adversity hit and he felt he couldn’t push any further, he did. He wasn’t going to be carried, he wasn’t going to give up. I admired that. I chuckled as I found myself thinking about the lessons I’d learn from a run with a dog. Who would have thought that some of life’s best lessons didn’t have to come from other humans.
As Bri and I walked upstairs the next morning for breakfast, we rounded the corner and looked in the living room. There was Mav standing there in a full puppy dog stretch getting his morning aches out.
“You sore today big fella?” I teased.
He just looked at me and turned his head as if to remind me how yesterday’s run finished.
Down but not out.
Tommy Henry || Grand Rapids, MI || May 23, 2020