When we got out of the car, Lana headed towards Blackhorse Gap trail. Like we always do.

I redirected her. Let’s try out Dody this time.

And she was all in. Just happily wagging her way down a brand new trail. Smelling all the smells.

She needs a good mile to work all of her curiosity out. And focus on the trail.

But on Dody, she was faced with something new.

Creek crossing.

“Guess we just head back now.”

No, ma’am. We’re gonna walk through this.

“Walk through- WATER???”

The look of incredulity on her face.

And then panic. As I started across. Still holding her leash.

“But…”

It’s fine, Lana. Come on.

“But…”

It’s not even that deep. You’ll barely get wet.

“I’d really rather just head on back to the car, though. Let’s just go back to the car.”

Lana.

“Fine.”

Tiptoe.

She tiptoed through the creek.

But once across, she returned to happily trotting along the trail.

Until.

We hit creek crossing number two.

“Wait. How do we…”

Just walk on across. Like you did last time.

“But…”

Lana.

“Fine.”

More tiptoeing.

“This better be the last one, though.”

It wasn’t.

Creek crossing number three.

“Dude. No.”

It’s the last one.

“I don’t believe you.”

I promise.

“How about you carry me. Can you carry me across?”

You’re fine. Let’s go.

“I just got my feet dry from the last two crossings, though.”

This is what happens when your person calls you “Princess.”

“I am a princess. And princesses should be carried.”

I’m definitely not carrying you.

“At least put your coat down for me to walk on.”

I’m not wearing a coat.

“Your body then. Just lay your body down in the water for me to walk across.”

For the love, Lana. Stop being dramatic and just come on.

“Fine. I will not be doing this again, though.”

She did it.

She made it across three treacherous water crossings.

And here’s where Dody gets fun.

Just up. And rocks. Up and rocks.

And this little girl refuses to pull my up hills like a normal dog.

And I now think it’s less about her being respectful and walking well on leash. And more about her highness’s absolute refusal to pull my significant weight up behind her.

She would rather stop. And look back at me like, “You ok?”

No. I’m mostly not. I’m getting very little of the oxygen into me.

“For the love, Sunshine. Stop being dramatic and just come on.”

Touche’.

She admittedly got me to the top of Dody much faster than I was comfortable with.

So I made her stop and admire the view. For…a while…

And then we took off down the Parkway. On over to Blackhorse Gap.

My original plan was to pick up the AT at that point and head over to the next overlook. And then back.

But once we got to Blackhorse Gap. My stomach was starting to get a little chatty. And insistent.

And so I asked Lana if maybe we should head on back to the car.

“Oh I know this trail! Yes! Let’s go down Blackhorse Gap!”

And so she took off.

And I, being attached to her by leash, also took off.

Cool.

But. Y’all.

So, I had this conversation with my estrogen doctor two weeks ago. About the fact that I’ve been on Depo Provera for almost 30 years. And how that puts me at increased risk for osteoporosis.

Y’all. I’m breakable now. Quite fragile. I should have a Handle with Care tattoo on my face.

And Blackhorse Gap is littered with rocks.

The fear. No. Terror. The terror.

I could envision bones snapping with every step.

But it wasn’t even a rock. I hit a normal step on solid ground just the wrong way. And the entirety of my right ankle touched the actual ground.

And I froze.

Lana froze.

Everything froze.

While I waited for the snapping sound to make its way up to my ears.

It never did.

There was pain.

But it eventually faded.

No snapping.

Sweet. My ankles are still bendy.

Even so. I asked if we could please just take a slightly cautiouser pace the rest of the way.

She mumbled something about me being a baby. But relented. And slowed to a trot.

When we finally got back to the parking lot, I walked her over to the creek where we normally enjoy creek beers in the summer.

She immediately began looking up and down stream in an angry panic for other options to get across.

How about we head on back to the house instead. For some snackies.

“Yes. Please. Snackies. And dry feet.”

And I don’t know if my watch is mocking me with that drawing it made of me at the end of our run…

But 94 hours of recovery sounds like a good plan.