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“Old Mt. Baldy (officially Mount San Antonio) stands as the grandest summit of the San Gabriel Mountains. No other peak in the range rivals its huge mass and lofty splendor… Old Baldy (10,064) stands as the third highest massif in Southern California, behind San Gorgonio Mountain (11,499) and Mount San Jacinto (10,804).” - Dan’s Hiking Page
Last weekend, Shacky and I attempted to summit this mountain on Saturday and again on Sunday. We reached the peak on Sunday only.
This climb was both the hardest physically (yes, harder than the Pinos hill due to elevation), as well as the most spectacular in beauty that I have ever experienced.
Reaching the top was an “AHA!” moment, and something I’ll never forget. Such a great sense of accomplishment, an elevation PR for me, and jaw-dropping views.
Here’s what we did:
Saturday
With the Robillards plus dog in tow, we headed out for the West approach from Mt. Baldy Village to Old Mt. Baldy Trail (aka Bear Canyon Trail, Bear Flat Trial, Mt. Baldy Trail, Baldy Trail). There are four ways to ascent the mountain, and this one has been labeled “The hard way to do Baldy”.
Where we started from.
Starting stats.
Here is a very accurate description:
“The no-nonsense trail begins at Mt. Baldy Village and first treats you to the woodsy charm of Bear Canyon with its gurgling creek and rich canopy of oak, bay, fir, cedar, and pine.
After Bear Flat it then emerges into open chaparral where numerous switchbacks steeply transport you to the ridge and an open conifer forest with expanding views.
You climb the ridge for miles and are treated with varied topography, shade and sun, sweeping vistas, remarkable rock formations, dramatic cliffs, mature forest, wind-swept bareness, and the top-of-the-world feeling as you conquer the highest summit in the San Gabriels.”
"The mountains are calling and I must go." - John Muir
“Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience.
Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence. ” - Hal Borland
This trail is also rich in history:
“John Robison writes that this trail was built in 1889 by Dr. B.H. Fairchild and Fred Dell, who envisioned a great observatory on the summit. Their dream never materialized… With the extension of the road to Manker Flat and the construction of Devils Backbone Trail in 1935-36, Mt. Baldy Trail lost its place as the main route to the summit. But for many today, it is indeed their favorite route to Old Baldy.”
Source: Dan’s Hiking Pages
“I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”
-
John Burroughs
“The lake and the mountains have become my landscape, my real world.”
-
Georges Simenon
I was immediately mesmerized by the lush greenery along this trail. Thick, towering trees and hot, humid spots made me feel as though I was far from California and transported to a tropical, forest-like land. It was something I imagined I might see on a lush B.C. Canadian trail.
The trees seemed to envelop me completely with their thick, gnarled branches and curious formations. Instead of mostly rocky ground, there were patches of thick, dark, and rich earth.
“For in the true nature of things, if we rightly consider, every green tree is far more glorious than if it were made of gold and silver.” - Martin Luther
“We do not see nature with our eyes, but with our understandings and our hearts.”
-
William Hazlitt
It was the type of ground where if you accidentally drop a seed, it wouldn’t surprise you to see it sprout immediately. I was in heaven and the dog was prancing like she had just come home. She would later throw herself across the creek and roll in the dirt.
“In wilderness I sense the miracle of life, and behind it our scientific
accomplishments fade to trivia.”
- Charles A. Lindbergh
“When preparing to climb a mountain, pack a light heart.” - Dan May
It was mentioned that not many attempt this route, although we saw a fair number of hikers and one runner out there. It is approximately a 13-mile round trip with 5,744 feet of elevation gain. We spoke to one hiker, who described a way we could turn it into a 20-mile run, ascending and descending three difficult peaks. That’s now on our To Do List.
I was surprised at the lack of runners we saw, although at these inclines it was nearly impossible to “run” anything. Still, it’s grueling training for such a short distance, and I was surprised we didn’t see more athletes.
Ginger curious about Jason's camera.
We saw a ton of these little guys.
“Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.” - Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
I was also surprised at how late the hikers were starting their trek. It seemed that most of them left around 8 a.m. or later. We started running at 7, but it would have been comfortable to start as early as 6 a.m. On Sunday, we started at around 5:30 a.m.
Since it was only about 6 miles to the top, I expected that we’d be finished this run in about 3 hours or less. Two hours later, we had only advanced 3 miles. And I was already feeling like death.
Jason Robillard was cruising on his mountain legs, bouncing along ahead of us and occasionally waiting in the shade for us to catch up. Shacky was next, but started slowing down and feeling nauseous until he was able to eat something.
Jason waiting for us to catch up.
Shacky pushing on...
... and waiting for us to catch up.
I was hiking with Shelly, and my legs felt like lead. I was taking deep breaths, and found it difficult to keep up a conversation. As soon as I’d stop to rest, I felt great and immediately wanted to continue. But five steps later, exhaustion would sweep over me again. I couldn’t believe how hard each step was.
Up, up, up!
Shelly, my faithful "running" buddy.
There was no level ground on this climb. It was up, up, up. In the first mile, I thought it was fairly steep. Then Shacky told us we weren’t at “the steep part” yet. The steep part was indeed an ass-kicker.
With only 2 miles left to the summit, we decided to turn back. I didn’t think I could go on one more step.
The turnaround point. Wiped!
Turnaround stats.
Running downhill was tricky, but insanely fast. I couldn’t believe it has taken hours to get where we were, yet the descent feel like mere minutes.
At the bottom, we decided to drive 5 miles to the waterfall and hike up near the trailhead we would be taking the next day. I was thrilled see snow on this trip, and by the waterfall I played in it with the dog.
Trek to the waterfall.
Ginger's first experience with snow!
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!
Crazy fun!
It had been over a year since I had seen snow. Back in Canada, I would wonder every winter how awesome it would be to have snow, but not the cold. Now here I was in the hot sun, sweating from a run, playing in the white stuff. It was everything I imagined it would be.
Waterfall
Shacky goes for a dunk in the cool water.
Family walk back to the car.
We finished the day with 10 miles, and completely wiped out. After a good meal, we turned in for an early bedtime and a 4 a.m. wake up call the next morning. Going to bed, I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful or rewarding ascent. I would be wrong.
Final data
Sunday
Shacky and I arrived at the new trailhead, just below the waterfall while it was still dark. Since we didn’t have headlamps, we waited about 20 minutes for it to get lighter, then set off.
We were ascending on the South approach from Manker Flats via Baldy Bowl. It was approximately 8.5 miles round trip, with 3,900 feet of elevation gain. The trail has been referred to as a “glorify use trail”, which means it was developed more by use than deliberately engineered.
The roads and parking lot were abandoned, except for one hiker—an older Asian man who started a few minutes behind us. We quickly ran ahead of him.
The turn off the road onto the trailhead was so obscure and difficult to spot, that we had to measure the exact mileage and squint our eyes to make out a near-invisible “trail” carving its way through the rocky gravel at a very steep incline.
The barely-there "trailhead"
We headed up, not even sure if it was the right way. Soon enough, we could soon see the trail more clearly and spotted a hiker’s log. I wrote down some motivating verses from memory, and we proceeded.
Thanks Trisha.
The trek was incredibly steep right from the start. It didn’t ease into an incline like yesterday’s route—one minute you were standing upright, the next minute you felt like you were scaling a wall. And that’s how it remained for the entire ascent.
“All good things are wild and free. ” - Henry David Thoreau
“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.” - Edward Abbey
“There is pleasure in the pathless woods; There is rapture on the lonely shore...
I love not man the less, but Nature more.” - Lord Byron
I thought this would be the “easier” run based on mileage, but it basically takes the 6-mile climb from yesterday’s route, and condenses it to 4 miles by making it more steep, more technical, and more insane.
“Nature teaches more than she preaches. There are no sermons in stones. It is easier to get a spark out of a stone than a moral.” - John Burroughs
“I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least – and it is commonly more than that – sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.”
-
Henry David Thoreau
Dan’s Hiking Pages summarize this route simply by saying: “It’s not for wimps.” Truer words were never spoken. Dan also adds: “Don’t attempt to hike in snow unless you are trained, equipped, and experienced in mountaineering. People die on this mountain.” This would be Shacky’s first running experience in snow.
The trail was much more rocky than yesterday, but equally lush with trees. We saw a green cabin in the distance which served as our 2-mile mark. It was built in 1937 and can be rented out.
Green cabin up ahead.
Just gotta get there...
Our trail instructions said that if guests were renting the cabin, they may invite us to “top off our canteen” with the spring-fed tap flowing directly into the kitchen. There were indeed guest in it, but they went inside and closed the door as we passed. We tried not to disturb their privacy.
Halfway there!
Shacky got there first.
The trail had more water access and small creek crossings than yesterday’s run. We could hear the waterfall below us and fresh, cool water trickled at our feet. The dog drank freely.
Occasionally, we would come across patches of snow. We threw it around with the dog to cool her off, as well as ourselves. I took handfuls of snow and washed my face, neck, and arms. I even let some trickle down my back.
“Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” - Robert Frost
“Believe one who knows; you will find something greater in woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you that which you can never learn from masters.”
-
St. Bernard de Clairvaux
After we passed the green cabin, we came upon an incredibly rocky section. We were weaving through boulders, trying to make out the trail. We went off-trail several times, but as long as we kept going up, we were generally on the right track.
Soon, snow covered the ground completely and we were shuffling through it, trying not to slide straight down due to steepness. We lost the trail since all we could see was snow, so we just tried to make the best possible route for ourselves. It didn’t look like many people had been through here. On the entire ascent, we didn’t see a single soul.
Shacky had never run in snow before.
Finally reaching the ridge at over 8,000 feet, we saw a group of hikers packing their bags and getting ready to head down. They were surprised to see us and said we had come up “the hard way”—we didn’t know any better.
It seemed that a few people hiked up, camped at the top, and then hiked down the next day. That’s what these guys were up to.
We stopped at the ridge to eat. My stomach was growling and I was glad I brought a sandwich. We gave Ginger water, and she shared half my sandwich. I also had a Rise bar and Acclimate, a powder that’s supposed to aid in elevation issues. My only real issue was that it was hard as hell. After a few minutes of rest, we headed back out.
“Marry an outdoors woman. Then if you throw her out into the yard on a cold night, she can still survive.” - W. C. Fields
“Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top.
Then you will see how low it was.” -
Dag Hammarskjold
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Despite the steepness, we hadn’t yet reached “the steep part,” according to our instructions. I rolled my eyes and just couldn’t imagine what that steep part would look like. When we got to it, it was basically bouldering. I scrambled along after Shacky and Ginger, and had to stop a couple of times because my legs were literally shaking. I thought they would collapse right under me.
When it was over, we were so close to the summit, I could taste it. But first, we took a small detour through some deep snow and came upon a breathtaking lookout. The drop was steep and immediate, and I was nervous about Ginger getting too close and slipping off the edge. Shacky sat down and Ginger sat with him. I took their picture.
“The contented person enjoys the scenery of a detour.” - Unknown
Less than a mile to go. Shacky and Ginger went ahead, with me scrambling behind. When I turned around, I spotted the older Asian hiker right on my ass. I couldn’t believe it. How had he made it this far??
I pushed myself to get to the summit before him, where I was greeted by a happy dog and a tired Shacky. I was immediately overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment, and ran to every corner to look at the views. The mountain is called “baldy” because of the lack of trees at the summit.
Summit!
No words 
A California boy's best snow angel attempt.
WE DID IT!
Pretty freaking proud of us.
Stats at the top
I felt like I was on top of the world. There was nothing higher as far as the eye could see. We celebrated and Shacky attempted a snow angel. By then, the Asian hiker had reached the top and we chatted.
His name was Mr. Kim he had hiked to this summit over 200 times. He told us how he summits every weekend, rain or shine. He never misses a week. My jaw dropped. The dude made us ultra runners look like pansies. I still have no idea how he finished only minutes after us. Well done, Mr. Kim.
Mr. Kim, my hero.
Leaving the summit, I was refreshed and fulfilled. But what would await me was something I did not expect from a trail referred to as “the Devil’s backbone”.
I expected a treacherous and difficult descent. Something devilish. But the backbone was my best interpretation of what heaven must be like. The ground was solid and rich. The trees were immense and lively. The path was narrow and adventurous, with sharp drops if you’re not careful.
“The more civilized man becomes, the more he needs and craves a great background of forest wildness, to which he may return like a contrite prodigal from the husks of an artificial life.” - Ellen Burns Sherman
“Men go back to the mountains... because in the mountains and on the sea they must face up, as did men of another age, to the challenge of nature. Modern man lives in a highly synthetic kind of existence. He specializes in this and that. Rarely does he test all his powers or find himself whole. But in the hills and on the water the character of a man comes out.” - Abram T. Collier
If you looked to the right: snow-capped mountain peaks. To the left: postcard-worthy views to take your breath away. I ran fast and tried to understand what I had done to get so damn lucky. I felt insanely blessed.
“Now I see the secret of making the best person, it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth. ” - Walt Whitman
“We simply need that wild country available to us... For it can be a means of reassuring ourselves of our sanity as creatures, a part of the geography of hope.”
- Wallace Stegner
It was over all too soon, as we quickly reached the ski lift. We didn’t have money, so weren’t able to buy a beer at the store. We won’t forget our money next time!
It’s also possible to ride the ski lift down to the road, but we opted to run to the bottom instead. There was a shortcut that followed the path of the lift, but it was incredibly steep with tons of loose rocks. However, it was only a 1-mile descent, as opposed to 3 miles down the fireroad. We opted for the rocky trail.
It took a minute to convince Shacky.
Start of the fireroad heading down.
I was scared going down the shortcut. With every step, I was sure it would be my last. Shacky threw caution to the wind and just flew down. I inched my way along.
All we had to do now was follow the road back to the car, another 1/4 mile or so. We finished strong, and it was easily the most memorable run of my life.
Final data
I was incredibly proud of Ginger, who had never run at elevation and had zero issues. We kept an eye on her the whole way, continued feeding and giving her water, and she thrived with every step.
On the rocky sections, Ginger would run back to check on me. If I heard her coming, I’d yell that I was ok. She’d peek around a boulder to make sure, then run back to Shacky.
Sometimes she went off on tangents that were even more steep than anything we climbed, and I couldn’t believe how strong her footing was on these crazy inclines. I had never seen her like this.
Was there ever a happier dog?
Leading the way
Ginger’s secret is out—she’s not a dog at all. She’s a mountain goat. And on this summit, I found my own mountain legs.
Life is better at elevation.
“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.”
- Edward Abbey
Cheers.
Photo Credits: Robert Shackelford, Jason Robillard
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Six months ago, our dog Ginger couldn’t play for more than five minutes without getting winded and lying down for the rest of the day. Today, Ginger glides through 20-mile trail runs without a sign of fatigue. We can’t keep up.
I’m not a dog trainer. I’m an ultra runner currently training for my first 100-miler with a dog that loves trails. After searching for information on how to train my dog to follow me on my ultra-long runs, I found nothing. So I decided to become my own expert.
I started training Ginger the same way I train myself: back-to-back long runs, night running, trail running, elevation training, and hills. Below are the 20 steps I followed to transform Ginger from a couch dog to an ultra dog.
1. Assess your dog’s physical features.
We don’t know what Ginger’s breed is, so the dog articles that discussed breeds were useless. Ginger was adopted when she was just days old. She’s a mutt. Some people say she looks part Dalmatian or part German Shorthaired Pointer. We just say she’s Mexican (she was abandoned in Tijuana), and have no interest in learning her breed.
Ginger is physically built like a running dog. Her dog-care experts say she has the traits of a hunter. She’s quick, long, lean, and sharp. She’s an amazing sprinter, and her hair is short so she doesn’t overheat easily. Her size and shape compliment distance running.
If Ginger were smaller, or if she had thick fur, she might not have been able to run as long. Keep that in mind when establishing the limits of your own dog.
Not all breeds are physically built for efficient long-distance trail running. But then again, not all humans are training for ultras. So chances are there’s a happy medium where you and your dog can run together.
2. Establish an interest.
It’s easy to project our own interests onto the things or people we love. I love trail running, so my dog must love it too, right? Not necessarily. It’s important to make sure this is something your dog enjoys.
Does your dog like to run? Does your dog love trails? Much like humans, you’re not likely to convince someone to train for an ultra if they hate running. Dogs are usually great at showing us what they enjoy. Get their paws on a trail and see how they react.
Sometimes when we drive Ginger home from a trail, she doesn’t want to get out of the car. She thinks the next stop might be another trail.
Trail love
3. Start slow.
It takes time to train a dog. It took us six months to get Ginger in ultra shape, but it may take much longer. On a positive note, it takes a long time to train a human as well. So patience is important for you both.
Do not ever rush the process. Dogs want so badly to please their owners, and that’s a strong motivation for them. Don’t make your dog “push” to please you, or make them feel that they’ve failed you by not running far enough.
Your dog doesn’t need to be mentally pushed the same way that you do. Dog-hearts in it 100 percent and they always give their best. They’re not stressing over speed or goals or race fears. So if your dog is showing signs of wanting to stop, take it seriously.
4. Build a base with play-training.
Ginger loves chasing her ball, but six months ago she would get winded after five minutes. I started playing with Ginger until she got tired, then I would let her recover before playing again.
At first, it took Ginger half a day to recover and we’d only get in two or three play sessions. As time passed, her recovery times got much shorter. We play-trained for 30 to 60 minutes, two days a week until Ginger was able to play for one hour without stopping. Only then did I start to run with her.
5. Watch for cues.
Dogs are less complicated than humans. If they’re tired, they flop on the ground. If they’re thirsty, they drink. If they want to stop running, they will show cues. They may dawdle or just walk. Being receptive to their cues is crucial. Your dog knows what it needs.
My friend Cynthia recently started running with her dog. She knows when her dog Penny is ready for a rest when she stops often to pee:
For the past month, we have gone out about three to five times a week on this little 2K stroll and we do running pickups. Sometimes we do 2.5K depending on how she feels. If I see she is stopping often to do her business, I know it’s not a good day so we take it easy.
6. Start with short, local loops.
I started Ginger with a single run around the block, letting her rest when she got tired. When she recovered, we’d go back out. As time passed, her distances got longer (more loops, less recovery).
When we got to the point where she could run steady for an hour or more without getting tired, we started taking her out to the trails.
7. Keep track.
As silly as it sounds, Ginger has a Dailymile account where I track her mileage. This helps tremendously as far as knowing what she’s capable of and how far she’s come. It helps me determine what types of distances and conditions she’s ready for, and I note her mood and energy as well.
Every once in a while, tracking her progress also helps me call out and celebrate her milestones. We celebrated her highest elevation run. Her roughest terrain. We even note which wildlife she sees and how she responds.
I record Ginger’s mileage in “Ginger-speak,” typing about the run through her eyes. Here are some examples of her entries:
“I SEEN THE DEER AND I HUNT HIM. IMA WOLF.”
“I RUNNED FAST AND THEN I STOP TO PEE.”
“I SEEN A CAT I TRY TO EAT IT.”
“TIME TO GET SERIOUS ABOUT MY TRAININ….. SQUIRREL!!!!!!”
Ginger has had “Friends” add her and encourage her on her journey. I translate their messages by patting her head. You can add Ginger as a friend here.
All the benefits you get from tracking your own workouts apply to your dog as well. I strongly suggest keeping a log.
8. Open a line of communication.
The dog-master relationship is precious and your dog will often be bonded to you more strongly than what you imagine. Communicate with them about running, and you’ll be surprised at how much they actually understand and can share in your passion.
Tell your dog they’re going for a run. They’ll probably know exactly what you mean. This is my friend Cynthia’s experience:
I tell Penny the night before that we are going for a run in the morning and she knows what it means. Since (my husband) wakes up before me, she knows she still has some sleeping time until I wake up and we go.
When I get out of the bedroom, I ask her: ‘Are you ready for your run?’ and she gets so excited! Funny thing is she actually stretches before we leave. She does Downward Dog.
The book How to Talk to Your Animals describes how one dog owner started speaking English to his dog, and was shocked to find that his dog understood what he was saying.
“He speaks English!” he exclaimed to his wife. She looked at him in disgust, “Of course he speaks English! What’s he going to speak, German?!”
The author goes on to describe how many words dogs have been known to retain, and tells stories of dogs in Mexico who understand Spanish. According to this book, it’s easier for dogs to understand our language than for us to understand theirs.
Talk to your dog about running. This can keep you accountable as well. If you promised your dog a morning run the night before, you have to get up and do it.
9. Introduce trail running.
We started with a group trail run of 6 miles, then slowly incorporated other mid-week runs when we could no longer tire her out. Trail running adds a different dynamic to your dog’s experience, so it’s important to monitor this transition.
For Ginger, running in a group was a huge distraction. She hated to be in last place, and would often lunge forward to cut people off. It took some time for her to understand this was not acceptable.
There are also cyclists and wildlife to deal with. There’s a lot of stimulation for a dog. Take your time on this transition until your dog is comfortable with trails.
I found it helped Ginger to have some time off-leash (where possible) to sniff her new surroundings and explore a little. This prevented her from stopping dead in the middle of a single track trail to sniff some poop while tripping the person behind her.
We are still trying to perfect Ginger’s trail manners, especially when it comes to running with strangers and spotting other animals. She recently tried to take down an entire herd of deer by herself. Hunter, much? It’s an on-going process with her.
Some basic obedience training could go a long way here as far as following basic commands. Ginger is learning:
- “Slow down”
- “Stop”
- “Walking”
- “Come on”
- “Let’s go”
- “This way”
Ginger and I on the trails
10. Pick a side on pooping.
Ultra trail runners are well known for pooping on the side of the trail. In fact, I’ve heard people say that you’re not a true trail runner until you’ve pooped in the woods. I know that not all runners do this, but when you’re training to run 100 miles, any bush looks like a toilet.
The doggie bags I carry for Ginger are attached to her leash. On one trail run, it dawned on me: Why the hell and I shitting in the woods yet carefully carrying my dog’s poop around?? I picked a side: the Non-Doggie Bag Side.
Depending on your distance and your trails, you may pick the Doggie Bag Side. Maybe wood-pooping isn’t something you or your dog want to get into right now. It’s your call.
I always make sure Ginger goes off-trail and if she doesn’t, I’ll move it somewhere I’d poop myself, or slide it over the side of a cliff. She usually tries to bury it herself.
11. Train for danger.
Trail dangers include things like wildlife and rattlesnakes. We put Ginger through a rattlesnake avoidance training class once a year. It costs $70 and lasts under ten minutes. She learns to recognize and avoid snakes, and it gives us tremendous peace of mind when she’s out on the trails.
HERE is the training resource that we use, and below is a video of Ginger’s last training session. She’s great at avoiding snakes, but sometimes has trouble spotting them.
It’s best to do this at the beginning of the year, to coincide with rattlesnake season. It’s also best to refresh this training once a year. This is an important point to follow. One of our trail running friends lost her dog when it was bitten by a rattlesnake.
12. Make running fun, not work.
Dogs and humans both appreciate variety. On our shorter runs, I like to shake things up with Ginger. Sometimes we run “people pace”, and sometimes we run “Ginger pace”.
Ginger pace is where she gets a turn to lead. Instead of following me, I follow her. My pace is always steady and slow, but at Ginger pace we’re either running a mad dash, or stopping dead so she can sniff some pee-mail. This puts some fun into our routine, and keeps both of us engaged and smiling (yes, she smiles).
Does it get much more fun than this? Hellz no.
13. Leash wisely.
The leash that works well for road running with Ginger doesn’t work on trails. Most of the trails we’re running are single track, which means that if Ginger is leashed, she can’t run right beside me—she has be in front or behind. She needs a longer extension.
Also, technical trails can have sudden drops or rocks we have to scale. A shorter leash will start to choke her and severely limits her movement. If she has to leap off a rock and I’m still on it, a short leash is a disaster waiting to happen.
We have opted to let Ginger go off-leash as much as possible, and we often choose our trails based on their seclusion so she doesn’t bother anyone. Ginger is actually much better behaved and obedient when she’s off-leash than when I have her leashed.
If there’s a biker up ahead or another dog that might be aggressive, we’ll hold her until the threat has passed. If we spot other people on the trail, we’ll leash her until we pass them.
14. Trust your dog.
Letting your dog off-leash can be scary, but in some ways in comes down to trusting your dog. I knew that Ginger’s nature was very submissive, and she wasn’t one to run away. When we decided to trust her off-leash, we found that she became more protective of us and careful.
Instead of charging ahead like she tends to do on her leash, she would run close to the side of the person who was leading. Then she’d keep looking back to check that the other person wasn’t being left behind.
When we put enough distance between us that we could no longer see the next runner on the trails, Ginger would run back and forth to check on both runners. At one point, I stopped to take off my sweater and adjust my pack. Ginger sat beside me and nudged for me to catch up.
Last weekend Shacky hid behind a bush to see what she’d do if she lost one of us. She ran up and down the trail in search of him until he came out of hiding. She refused to leave him behind.
Miss Ginger checking over her shoulder for Shacky
15. Encourage hydration.
Your dog needs water just as much as you do. Encourage drinking at the end of every run and make it a routine. As your runs get longer, you should encourage your dog to drink mid-run.
We have Ginger drink every 6 to 8 miles, but some dogs may need to drink more frequently. When we’re on the trail, Ginger is great at drinking from creeks or streams when she needs it.
We keep an eye out for good water sources for Ginger and if there’s nothing appropriate, we pull out her collapsible doggie dish that hooks onto my own hydration pack. If we’re travelling long, she carries her own doggie pack with her own water dish.
Ginger has never gotten sick from stream or creek water, although if the water source doesn’t look clean, we give her water from our own hydration packs.
When we first started running trails, Ginger was so excited that it was difficult for her to settle down and drink. Now she is better at understanding when we want her to hydrate.
16. Do night runs.
Night (especially trail) running adds a different dimension. You may find that your dog behaves strangely under the moon. I have a small doggie light that I attach to Ginger’s collar when we run trails at night, more for my benefit than for hers. It doesn’t do much to light her way, but it ensures that I can spot her easily.
Running in the dark with a leash could take some practice as well. Your dog probably has better vision than you do, and it may take them some time to adjust to your more cautious form and speed. Humans should always wear headlamps.
17. Introduce elevation and hills.
This is the same process as introducing trails. Monitor the transition closely, and listen to your dog’s body (bet you never heard that one before). Stop if your dog needs to stop. Chances are your dog will probably adjust faster than you can.
18. Introduce higher mileage.
I used the same endurance-focused technique to build Ginger’s mileage. Speed didn’t matter, only time on her feet. When she got tired, we recovered and continued. We did this until she was comfortable running 20-mile distances without stopping.
19. Consider nutrition.
If you’re going to be on the trail long enough, your dog may need to eat. We are still experimenting with different foods for Ginger, but we try to give her some mix of carbs and protein. I have read of dogs eating anything and everything on a trail, from Cheezits to beef jerkey.
For the most part, we let Ginger tell us what she likes and doesn’t like. Interestingly, she loves pizza (hard to carry on a trail) but will also eat whatever we’re eating, from sandwiches to burritos.
On our last long run, I shared a bean and rice burrito with Ginger. At home, we feed her raw meat as well as high-quality, grain-free dog food. Sometimes Ginger’s diet is healthier than our own.
Mexicans love burritos.
20. Introduce back-to-back runs.
Back-to-back long runs were key for my own ultra training, so that’s where we headed with Ginger. Her recovery is impressive, and she has now caught up to my own training. We start to break down at about the same mileage, and we recover at around the same time. I’ve created the perfect running partner.
Immeasurable Benefits
1. BFF-status
Your dog can become your most loyal running buddy and bring out the fiercest loyalty in you. You’ll look out for each other and understand each other’s needs. I’ve passed up races because I didn’t want to put Ginger up in a doggie-hotel. Sometimes I’d rather bust out a long run with her.
2. Safety
Any run that I do with Ginger is safer. She’s not an aggressive dog, but I know that if danger calls, she’d step up and defend me. I also know that her mere presence is a deterrent.
I am never approached when Ginger is with me, whereas when I run alone I sometimes get comments, cars slowing down, or some lingering. Recently I was running in the dark with Ginger and I saw a man cross to the other side of the road to avoid us.
3. Fun and Enjoyment
Dogs know how to appreciate trails. They frolic. They sprint. They stand out over a lookout and gaze. Watching them teaches you to appreciate the trails. It reminds you where you are and why you’re here.
On roads, Ginger can be clumsy and careless (she once ran into a brick wall), but on the trails she moves with grace while I stumble along.
Here’s an exerpt from the book How to Talk to Your Animals, which outlines the similarities between wolves and dogs as far as movement and behavior in a natural setting:
In the woods I need not ask him to sit when we come to the top of the hill in view of the glorious Hudson. He glances at me, then the vista, sits down, and, like myself, gazes across the river valley. Only a few weeks ago we were on a new trail that opened up over a lake. Qimmiq lanced back at me, ran to the ridge, and sat down.
‘You’re right, it is beautiful,’ I said. He wagged is tail.
His wild kin, the wolves of Mount McKinley, dig their dens high on hills in view of gray-green valleys and snow-covered peaks. And they, like Qimmiq and me, sit and enjoy the magnificence.
At such moments the glance from either of us will say a volume, and the abyss between species is crossed from both sides.
If you’re thinking about getting a dog, please consider adoption
