Blown Away!

WIND.  Agility.  WIND.  Cold.  WIND.

WIND WIND WIIIIIIIND.

Every once in a while, a trial comes along that turns into a defining mark. “Remember that trial when…?”

Remember that trial when Friday’s 45mph gusts turned into Saturday’s day-long 60mph wind and mutated to Sunday’s blustery cold snap?

Early in the weekend with Wind Ears. Before it got bad.

First to go, the jump wings. The ring crews worked heroically to secure them.  Some couldn’t be saved, depending on their angle in the wind.  This led to a certain number of one-winged jumps and an ever-mutating course.

Next to go, the obstacle numbering cones. Well, we’re supposed to have memorized the course anyway, and who can read those things on the run?  But they did end up in some…inconvenient places.

Dog on the Run: What the heck is THAT?  Super-power: LEVITATE!

Early Saturday, before the wind hit peak, between gusts at the start line. The background tells the tale--contorted tunnel, traveling cone and chair in the ring...

Then came the set-up chairs. The set-up canopies were safe, because we’d all had warning…they were all tucked away, and the field was dotted with naked shade shelter frames.

That’s when it got fun. Tumbling crates, blowing jackets, flying trash, stinging desert grit, wayward hats, misshapen tunnels… Keeping the courses intact turned into a community project, with the ring crews in constant motion.

And jump poles! Even with rubber bands (which hold the poles gently in place but don’t prevent a knocked bar), they were scattered across the course.  Connery ran one course with four missing jumps.

ConneryBeagle: This is not RIGHT.  I will pretend the bar is STILL HERE.

But he still bayed into the wind and Double-Q’d.

Connery at the start line, spurning the wind

Unfortunately, he’s had a tough weekend as far as his pain is concerned, although we had him bundled away in a protected crate.  Little Dart was dazed and frazzled, and I was really glad he wasn’t scheduled to run; I’d have pulled him.  Belle…well, Belle did what she does best.

Belle: Oh!  Woe!  This must somehow be MY FAULT.

Sunday was a relief after that, bitter biting cold wind and all.  Thirty miles per hour, suddenly not so bad…

As for the hamstring, bless its little heart… I didn’t re-injure it.  I did my share of lurching, skipping, and jumping, and if I can get my hands on the video taken of Belle’s run from the worst of the wind, you might just get a gander of that.

Or not. I have to hold on to the shreds of dignity that I might possibly have remaining, after all…

(Hey!  I hear that!  STOP THAT LAUGHING!)

Meanwhile, it’s time to go check the mirror for my wild windburn, and do some laughing of my own.  Why waste the opportunity?