I'm amused.
It was a long workout, but it always is. I'm an endurance athlete. If the workout is less than an hour in duration it just does not feel like "enough". I've been doing 90 minutes lately and that even feels a bit like I'm shorting myself.
Before I go to the park, I have a routine of making sure I have all I need for this. Then I go there and burn a thousand calories. Do that enough and you will be an endurance athlete too.
Water, bike computer, snack for mid-exercise, minimal tool kit, trail camera, and pack. Mount the bike on the back of the Jeep.
In and out the front door. Usually by the time I get to the bike going out front, Rack, my trusty sidekick, the McNab SuperDog (TM) has decided it's time to "guard" and watch the front door.
"Sorry, buddy, you can't come. You wouldn't be able to keep up!"
Dogs are sprinters, not marathon runners.
I finally get myself together and do an in car look to make sure everything is ready. The helmet with some of the gear is on the front seat, held in place by being blocked by the bike bag. Two bottles of water in their place held down by the steering wheel lock and the cap. Giant grey steel disc that makes it obvious that you're going to have issues breaking into the car.
There really is no such thing as security in a convertible car, and mine is no different. The best security is to simply not have anything of value in the car since if they want it, the kill switch I have discretely hidden will stop a casual car thief.
Coming back into the house, I do a final check after I step over the dog.
Finishing that "OK, Rack, Good Boy, Watch the House".
The place is a bunker, I'm not worried.
Going to the park, it's a good workout. Always check to make sure that you work the four sides of the square so the exposed sections have wind at your back. You get to wind surf for a little and have a little fun.
This would be three times around plus a bit.
Get back to the car, mount the bike on the back, and go home.
I back into the driveway and climb out.
Since I see Rack laying by the door, I go through the ritual. Or so I think.
You see, with an intelligent herding dog like Our Boy Rack, everything has a Process. In this case, the Process is normally, say hello, give him attention, then let him out back.
In this case he was still asleep by the time I got to the door. I was not very quiet doing all this, in fact I had to reposition the Jeep a number of times. There's a sprinkler head and guard by the door that have been "decorated" by my back tire a number of times and I'm extra careful not to have that happen.
All that means I was not quick about getting myself indoors.
I scoop up the helmet, bike bag, and the two vacuum bottles, and walk to the door.
"Hmm, he's still sleeping. I wonder..."
Three soft taps on the impact glass on the door.
I have unleashed the hounds. Cerberus himself, the three headed guard of Hades rears up.
Massive barking. Jumping at a rate that would do proud to a Chihuahua. Barking to the point of yodeling.
It wasn't that I was shielding my face to hide who I am, I was standing there in black compression shorts and a white technical fabric workout T Shirt.
I was surprised at the intensity, but knowing the source, it was laughable. He's an old dog, and thanks to his diet he acts Middle Aged, but still by the clock he's in Bonus Years at this point.
All that jumping around and yelling on his part finally began to shake the crazy from his head. The feeding frenzy of insanity fading to nothing and he began to realize I was home and who I was. The tail began to wag.
I'm watching all this and laughing. Loudly. Mind you, the impact glass will muffle sounds but not all that much. The normal thing at this point is for me to unlock the door and step in saying "Are you going to let me in?"
This did not happen. He realized that he was being laughed at by me and he walked away to His Corner.
"What's the matter, Rack, don't you want to say hi?" I said between belly laughs.
He finally calmed down enough that we resumed normal programming. I was able to get him out to the backyard as the Process requires.
Laughing.
All day.
Every time I would look his way, he would look embarrassed and look away. I'd start laughing again.
Over the years I've mentioned that he's a cartoon character. Black and white and quirky. Definitely can teach an old dog new tricks, that maxim is a load of nonsense. While he's in his Bonus Years, I will certainly treat him as well as I have and give him room to be himself. We always have.
I will say the entertainment value I have gotten has been amazing. Hopefully we will still have more years to come.
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