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In This Together

PD (Piedra Dura, which means “Hard Rock” in Spanish) signed up for miles and adventures when she first stared down Krissy Moehl with her big brown eyes. Full of life and energy, the two are a perfect match for their work hard/rest hard approach to life.

Krissy has spent the better part of her adult life running ultra trail races and filling her passport with world explorations. As a running coach, author, race director, and public speaker, her life fully embodies miles, people, and mountains. Sharing the trails and life with PD adds a whole new spin on her love and passion. Seeing PD experience these things for the first time renews her own passion.

Off the trail, this duo enjoys road trips, stand up paddle boarding, and exploring their home in the Pacific Northwest. If you are curious where the D in PD comes from, after Piedra met her grandparents, she secured the 2nd name, Dura, thanks to her grandpa who also speaks Spanish. He knows that the adjective follows the noun and therefore Dura, which means hard, in Piedra Dura translates to Hardrock, a very significant running event in Krissy’s life.

Krissy trail running through forest.

They say, whoever they is, that the right dog will come into your life when you are ready for it. For 10 years I talked, and dreamed, and thought about having a dog. A four-legged bud to run trails with, a pup to accompany me on road trips, and a fuzzy body to warm my feet while I worked from home.

Krissy stops for a mid-run snuggle with PD. I wanted to have that I just knew it when I saw her moment. As I closed in on a full 10 years of longing for a dog, I put a deadline on myself: If I didn’t find a pup by Christmas 2016, then I needed to stop talking about it and realize that I really wasn’t living a life that could accommodate a dog. It sounds harsh, but 10 years is a long time of traveling the world, training and racing ultra marathons, moving homes – 11 times in 11 years – and balancing a schedule that was anything but dog friendly. But, I now own a home that has access to trails. The timing felt right.
Krissy running up rocky trail in cedar forest in Chuckanut Washington.
Her name, Piedra, came to me about a month before we met. I was running down the Fragrance Lake trail in Chuckanut, Washington. While bouncing over the rocks my mind wandered along a spaghetti-like train of thought. What would it be like to share the trails with my pup? What will she look like? What will I call her? And as I landed firmly on a rock step, it hit me.
close up of PD looking up at Krissy.
Piedra means rock or stone in Spanish, and is a feminine noun. I received a minor in Spanish at the University of Washington and liked the connection. Add my love of trail running, the rocks that make up the technical trails where I live, and the stable visual a rock offers — I felt like I found a perfect name. When people told me about owning a dog and the impact that unconditional love and consistency a dog has in one’s life, my little rock, Piedra, felt appropriate. And sure enough, little PD came into my world December 15, 2016, ten days before Christmas.
Krissy & PD greeting another trail user while on a trail run in the woods.
PD is the wiggly-est pup I know …for everyone else. When visitors arrive or we run into anyone on the street her little bum goes into hyper-wiggle mode, her ears fall back making her eyes bulge in anticipation of rump scratches and high pitched notes from the other humans… “Oooooo, she’s sooooo cute!” She brings it on and seems to love it.
Krissy pets PD who is laying on an Urban Sprawl Bed holding a gourdo toy.
When I arrive home from an errand and let her out of her room, she’ll give me a sniff, accept some scratches on her head, and then wander into the living room to find her favorite toy or drag another favorite out and shake it violently — letting me know it is time to play. It is my favorite greeting and I wish others could know this side of her. But then again, this special greeting is reserved for me.
Krissy smiles and laughs while holding PD in her arms while on a trail run.
As PD’s companion, I feel exceptionally loved and singled out by the devotion she reserves for me. We both love to be loved and to show love — our favorite time is just after the alarm goes off, when she scoots up from the foot of the bed and I wake up giving her scratches and belly rubs. It is a lovely way to transition from sleep to the day and serves as an amazing check in for both of us.
PD jumps for a treat from Krissy's hand while on a trail run.
Yet, we are both independent souls that have come together to be there for one another. Some of our best collaborations come from our distinct needs. I need time at my computer, focused on work. PD is either at (on) my feet, or on the blanket under the window across the room, strategically positioned so she can have one eye on me at all times. PD, in turn, needs to play. She needs to run in circles, bark a bit, be chased and chase her toys — and she’ll make me chase her if I get too serious.
PD wearing grip trex dog boots leaps over roots on a forested trail run.
Her need for play makes me smile when I need it most, and reminds me to get out of my own head at just the right time. A huge part of the athlete life and also meeting my most core need is integrating movement on a daily basis. Honestly, this is where WE shine. Whether linked by leash or eye contact, PD and I are each our best selves on trails. We both seem to thrive on the cushy trails that are right out our door. We run along, check in with each other, do our own thing, but do it together.