In the quiet town of Elkmont, Alabama, the annual half-marathon was just about to begin. Runners gathered at the starting line, adjusting their bibs, stretching muscles, and shaking off nerves. The crisp morning air buzzed with anticipation — but no one expected a four-legged participant to make headlines that day.

From somewhere down the road, trotting casually and completely unconcerned, came a bloodhound named Ludivine.

She didn’t have a race number. No shoes, no training plan. In fact, she hadn’t even told her owner she was going out — she’d simply slipped through the backyard fence when she saw the crowd gathering.

Curious, Ludivine made her way to the starting line, tail wagging, tongue lolling. The gun went off — and without hesitation, she joined the pack.

She didn’t sprint, didn’t compete, and certainly didn’t care about her time. She paused often to sniff at interesting smells along the route. Once, she darted off into a nearby field to greet a group of cows, tail high like she was reuniting with old friends. But then she’d trot right back onto the course, falling into step beside one runner or another, like she belonged there.

And somehow… she kept going.

Mile after mile, Ludivine bounded joyfully through water stations, over hills, and past cheering spectators — many of whom couldn’t help but laugh at the floppy-eared dog stealing hearts as she ran.

When she crossed the finish line, muddy and panting, no one expected it — but there she was, coming in 7th place.

The organizers were stunned. Then delighted. Then deeply amused.

Ludivine was awarded an official race medal, and her photo — looking both exhausted and triumphant — made local news. From that year on, she wasn’t just a surprise guest.

She became a legend.

Ludivine was crowned the official mascot of the Elkmont Half-Marathon, a beloved symbol of spontaneity, joy, and the simple magic of showing up — no training required.

And every year after, folks showed up not just to run the race, but to see if Ludivine might do it again.