On the Beach

[Ken Gray]

A favourite of our readers, five-and-a-half-year-old labradoodle, Juno, blogs on politics, art and culture, canine/human connections, and creation. She is supported by her production team PaPaw and MaPaw. To unbelievers, feel free to suspend belief, even for a moment.

---

[Juno]

“God made me fast, very fast, and when I run, I feel his pleasure.”

These words spoken by the Scottish sprinter, rugby player, and Christian missionary Eric Liddell (1902-1945) to his sister Jenny, explain the tension between Christian faith and athletic competition which caused Liddell to withdraw from the 100-metre sprint at the Paris Olympics in 1924. He refused to run on a Sunday.

In the end, love of God won out over his love of running.

In my own case, I can sense God’s love in my own doodle life. Most emphatically, I love running, fast, with or without running partners. Like Liddell I am more of a sprinter than a distance runner. I love to feel my hair pulled back as I pull myself forward at times “flying through the air with the greatest of ease.” I appreciate the thrill of the chase as much as I enjoy the squish of the ball in my jaws. I was born to run.

So why run? All I can say is that it’s fun. It feels grand to stretch out, a horizontal hailstorm of energy released to the world, well captured through Pawpaw’s fast-shuttered camera eye. Running is play, whether alone or in the company of other like-minded, four-pawed athletes. The golden retriever I met at a Victoria beach a few days ago simply arrived out of nowhere. Actually the reverse is true; I entered his familiar space. For some reason, we clicked. While three-year-old Hendrix (his original name was Jimi – no kidding) was larger than me, his spirit was youthful, and he also loved to play. From the get-go it was “game on,” no “after you,” or “by your leave sir.”  Our adventure was a full court press towards an unknown destination, in which water play alternated with endless counterclockwise circles — do some dogs circle in the opposite direction? I wonder — and the next half hour was a blur of bluffs and canine bluster.

It was fun, and it was fast.

So what is fast? Well some folks think it is time for the next generation of supersonic jets, the next-gen Concorde. Travelling above Mach 2; that is twice the speed of sound. Now that’s fast.

The swimming world is still savouring the talent and athleticism of Canadian Summer McIntosh. In both the middle distances and particularly in freestyle she consistently excels. In the 400-metre individual medley she remains one of the fastest swimmers of her generation. Now that’s fast.

A friend of MaPaw’s, a stylish, intelligent, cultured, and well-travelled woman surprised us when she described her next trip abroad. She is now in Europe to watch a Formula One car race. Really? PawPaw asked her what it was like to watch such a race: “Don’t you just sit in one place and watch the cars go by?” Zing … zing … zingg … Ziinnnggg. Formula One (Is there such a thing as Formula two? Asking for a friend.) is described as the fastest race in the world. Now that’s fast.

The story of Eric Liddell is beautifully told in the 1981 movie Chariots of Fire which opens as members of the 1924 British Olympic team run on the beach at St. Andrews in Scotland. My running also occurred on a similar beach half a world away, all of us running as fast as we can.

All I can say is that I love going fast, very fast; and yes, in running and playing I feel pleasure, much pleasure, even God’s pleasure.

Woof.