I Seem To Be Every Cyclist, According to Our Boy, Rack

As the French say, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Or so I have been told.

You see, I have been biking around town lately.  For me that means 20 plus miles in large circles at high to me speeds.   

I prefer to go up to the Pompano Airpark since it is a big 4.6 mile square and I don't get so dizzy going in circles.  I refuse to skate there since they are indifferently maintaining the actual trail which I have been led to believe that is true to form with most things in Pompano Beach.  Grounds are different, they're quite nice, but there is way too much trash on the trails to skate.

I can't skate here since the bike trails are too exposed to vehicular traffic and way too full of debris.

And I can't go to Pompano since it is an 8 mile drive and my car is waiting on parts from everyone's favorite love-to-hate-them online shopping mall.

Parts about $150.  Professionally installed at a repair shop about $1500.  I'll do it myself thank you.

However, since I am fortunate to have someone here who is more than happy to take Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) for his second walk, I get up and out before dawn.

That is important since Rack is almost 12 years old and can't be trusted indoors all day now.  He'd water the carpets by the door if we go too long. 

But every person on a bike is me, it seems.  At least in Rack's little head it seems to be.

A loop varies in distance and in time to do it.  I'm dodging traffic and debris and passing the same place a number of times.  Six?  Seven?  Eight?  Who's counting? 

Since we in South Florida are experiencing a heat wave as well as the other southern tier states, I have forced myself to take water stops to cool down. 

Stops.  Plural. 

In what passes for winter here, I can go a full workout without a break.  Lets call that 90 minutes.  Just go in circles and then home.  Drink at home and go on about the day. 

Simple, huh?

In a heat wave where the weather radio is doing its best to scare you not to do the sorts of thing that bring me athletic joy, you need to moderate yourself.  I roll in front of City Hall here and park myself front and center in front of the doors and by the neatly tended shrubs and have my water and cookies.

In doing so, I cool down.  To be fair I leave a bit of a water mark myself on the concrete bench before I leave.

It turns out that Rack is noticing it even if nobody else is.  I've been told that the entire time he's out, he's sniffing the air to see where I have disappeared to. 

Hey, I launder those compression shorts and the cycle jersey and I rotate the ones I wear on each of the workouts.  Don't get funny there, ok?

Sheesh!

But apparently, to a dog's sensitive nose, I'm leaving things behind.  I've been told he pulls to sniff that spot I had left at the 45 minute mark, and is always watching.

Yes, he watches every person on a bike and wags his tail expectantly. Every cyclist is Me.  Except when it actually is me and he gets the payoff.  You know, it is like how they get you hooked on gambling.

I have to say, I watch for him too since seeing your own dog who rests in a ball at your right elbow whenever you are sitting in the big green chair, out of place and being walked by someone else is a bit of a surprise.

But when he is right, he is right.  He's watching every, and I do mean every, cyclist and usually once a workout, he sees me.

"Rack!" I shout.
He turns around and makes his hello whine and happy dance. 
"Good Boy Rack!"
"Mwoof!" he says as I fly past at 15 MPH.

Just as soon as that I am gone heading up towards Five Points.  Never mind that, in his mind, he is the Goodest Of Boys who has just done his job watching over Me.

And that is what a good workout is all about, after all.