Going to the dogs! - using dogs for runner peace of mind

American Fitness, Sept-Oct, 1990 by Catherine Gockley

GOING TO THE DOGS!

"A woman," says Shelley Reecher, "can run into some sort of trouble about once every 50 times she ventures out alone, and somebody is not going to be there to save you."

Reecher, 35, ought to know. In 1975 she was brutally raped in broad daylight in an affluent Portland, Oregon suburb. Initially devastated ("People actually witnessed me being dragged into a car, and no one cared"), Reecher says she became "a ferret," and told no one of the incident for over three years. "I was a fledgling," she reflects. "This was my first time away from home--out on my own. I started thinking it was my fault."

Then, she says, she had a lot of anger--"real anger." Shelley moved to Eugene, Oregon in 1977 specifically to "put power back into her own hands." She picked up Jake, a Doberman Pinscher, at the local dog pound and trained him as a personal protection dog, after she "just got sick of being hassled." Her roommates started borrowing Jake to go running, then her friends. Pretty soon about 15 people were running with the Dobi. This was Project Safe Run's debut.

Since then, non-profit Project Safe Run (PSR) has been providing "personal protection dogs" to women runners in Washington and Oregon. Out of over 6,000 logged runs, there have been no assaults or attempted assaults. This year, Reecher plans to take PSR nationwide.

Comparing the conception of PSR to Mothers Against Drunk Driving ("It started with one woman getting ticked off"), Reecher soon realized she wasn't alone in her feelings about the cause. "Women are just getting fed up with not being able to do what they want to do," she states matter-of-factly. "They're finally saying, enough is enough--one rapist too many--now we're going to do something about it."

The project is an alternative for women who choose to run without a partner, according to detective Les Rainey, who has been with the Violent Crimes Unit of the Eugene Police Department for five years. "The program is working," he says. "These guys are gonna be out there, and they're not too concerned about what time their watch says."

The daughter of an air force colonel, Reecher grew up watching the canine units at work. "As far as dog training," she says, "you'd have to say I started when I was seven years old." It was then when Reecher's father offered her a deal--she could have as many animals as she could "comfortably" take care of. She soon had 19.

These days, Reecher has almost as many critters. PSR, which is headquartered at her residence in a serene Eugene, Oregon neighborhood, generally supports about 13 dogs at a time. She houses five or six of the dogs herself, and the others reside at one of the other eight "chapter houses"--seven of which are in Oregon, one in Seattle.

Although the chapter houses are responsible for the dogs care and making them available to runners, Reecher does all the shopping and pays all the bills. Nine dogs consume $600 a month in food and supplements. "The dogs," Reecher laughs, "own me. I didn't buy that car or house without thinking about them." But, she explains, "They're working dogs. We even go as far as putting benzoin on their feet, to protect the pads. It's $10 a bottle, but it keeps them moving."

As a non-profit entity, PSR recently worked out an arrangement with the University of Oregon. It allows students to receive college credit for working with the program. The students do the more mundane chores--answering the phone, filing, washing the dogs--but they also learn how to work the dogs professionally. "They become more in tune with rape awareness," says Reecher.

Reecher thinks women are ready to take the steps needed to protect themselves. "People move when they're uncomfortable," she emphasizes, and now, women "are not even safe in their homes." With the growing necessity for safety-oriented programs like PSR, Reecher is eager to bring the project nationwide and busily planning the best approach. Her goal is to set up a central facility where people from all over the country can learn how to train the dogs, then return home to set up their own chapter house. "That's coming together. There are enough people who believe in it as much as I do. They know what it takes to keep it afloat.

"Most rapists are pretty smart," she adds. "They know you aren't going to run down by the river at 1:30 a.m., but you would at 1:30 p.m. because you're counting on it being safe then."

Reecher seems most proud of how the program "empowers" women to pursue their running without fear. Carma Bristou, a long distance runner and nursing student at the University of Oregon, is one such individual. After running alone in Eugene for about a year, she decided it was just too risky. Now a regular PSR runner, Bristou can't imagine training without a dog. "I would never run here alone," she stresses while jogging down a rather isolated, although typical, Eugene running trail. "Kaely [her PSR dog] would give her life for me."

The Project Safe Run dogs are defensively trained, according to Reecher. They only match the level of agression of a would-be attacker. "They are not attack dogs," says Reecher. "They bark a lot before they bite. Nine times out of ten, people don't want to press it any further than that.