Park Hill Loop/Levy Trail

I alternated one-minute jogs with four-minute walks to complete the Park Hill Loop this morning in 1:10:36, and felt good all the way, despite a 20 mph westerly that must've held the RealFeel® in the 20s throughout. My splits were 13:43, 15:23, 13:40, 13:58, and 13:53. Late this afternoon I jogged two miles on the Levy Trail in 23:02, with splits of 11:18, and 11:44. A headwind and fear of pooping myself combined with fatigue to slow the second mile.

OVERHEARD
"HEY, SOMEBODY COME GET YOUR GODDAMN DOG!"
—yelled by Pete Perkins in the fourth mile of the Park Hill Loop, as a c. 60-pound dog—colored like Scout/Bear, except with a black snout—barked and scowled as if he were madder than two motherfuckers. The dog had charged from a hundred yards a way. As Perkins walked backwards up a hill, continually shouting, in a madder-than-two-motherfuckers tone, things like, "Get back," he passed a 40-year-old man and an eight-year-old girl on their driveway, saying, "Come here, Chili."

This (paraphrased) conversation ensued:

adult dog owner: "Don't worry. He won't bite."
Perkins: "OK. That's good to know. Please forgive me for cursing."
ado: "Oh, don't worry about that. He just snuck out on us."
P: "That can happen sometimes. I'll tell you this, he's one good-looking dog."
a: "Thanks. I just, I wish he wouldn't bark so much."
P: "Ahh, he's just watching out for you and your daughter."

Pete felt badly about the "goddamn" part. Heck, he was frightened, but knows he shouldn't have been angry. Dogs get out all the time