My doctor is amazed at what I do "for entertainment" on the trails. I suppose that I could "dial it back" and still get enough exercise.
Or not.
I have been training hard since I was a teenager, and I am not about to stop now.
By that I mean I have been cycling a marathon three times a week, steadily, for more than a year.
I keep records. On a spreadsheet. Because, of course I would. It's my IT training.
The spreadsheet has areas for all sorts of information including Weight, BMI, conditions, Distances in two sports, and so forth.
Start out slow and add columns when you need them. After all, Libre Office wants you to use their software and I would prefer do as they say.
It would be "untowards" if I didn't.
We have a routine. I get my odds and ends inside the house, then the bike, then I can take Rack the McNab SuperDog(TM) out back.
Lately he has decided that I am too slow and he lets himself out. The front door. And goes next door and waters their flower box for them. Leg in the air, wave it round like you just don't care.
I am able to unstrap the bike from the Jeep in that time and typically get it inside the house while Rack is "visiting". The block is quiet in the pre-lunch hour so I don't have to worry.
But today, wet nose was insistent. This isn't new.
If my feet hit the floor, my 14 year old dog wants outside. If I am in the kitchen, he follows me in.
Today was a cheese pizza with toasted Shallots on top. It makes for a fragrant lunch, sweet and savory at the same time. Trust me on this one, Shallots on top of a Pizza are an interesting treat.
Since I am constantly training, I am on a training diet. I may have "Cheat Days" here and there, I am too good of a baker not to. I do know exactly what goes into these personal pizzas so that I am not overdoing calories and so that I hit the Protein count that my Macros demand. 30g per meal.
While I am slicing cheeses to go on top of the prefab crust, AKA a Pita, I am being stared down. Of course I am, because I am in the kitchen.
The thing is that with an Old Dog, you really don't want to push a lot of protein into them. They may love cheese, and this one is a good low moisture Mozzarella, but since it is relatively high in protein, it is difficult for a dog to process with Old Kidneys.
He is on a training diet too, or rather one I developed with the Vet so that he may last a couple more years. He's got a long list of Old Boy issues, and about 7 different medicines to support all of that.
It used to be that I could say "Not For Dogs" and he'd hear it. Then he'd slink away and let me finish the task at hand. Now, he is either deaf or selectively deaf and I don't trust that he will hear that.
The solution is to shave a thin piece of cheese and let him have just that morsel while I am preparing my own lunch.
It usually does the trick.
Usually.
I am his job. He watches for me. He watches me. He is my shadow. He is at my right elbow now, and most of the day when I am home and settled in.
I hear the ring on the oven, and bring the pizza out to the coffee table. It has a hinge on the top so that it can be raised just enough that Rack can't get his muzzle onto the table. I am safe because if I walked off, that pizza would vanish.
Good stuff because the sauce is a 1970s reverse engineered Pizza Sauce. As good as the best pizza parlor would have had anywhere. None of that canned or jarred garbage for us!
After finishing the lunch, I have to remember to block off the front door. There is a floor to ceiling (nearly) window in the door. Hurricane Impact Glass. It gives me a great view to the street and people coming and going.
The problem there is that Mr Cheese Hound sees it too. He's decided that anyone walking or driving down my block deserves commentary. Loud Commentary.
I have a fabric gate that I made about 25 years ago that I place in front of the lower half of the window so that Rack can't see out. If he did any delivery truck would be yelled at, and if the driver dared to come up the driveway, hilarity would ensue.
Since everyone has deliveries these days from multiple web sites and multiple shipping companies, it means that we are greeted with announcements in Dog.
"Rack you don't have to do that. Go in your corner."
I'm ignored
"Rack Stop."
I'm ignored with a fusillade of barking.
"Rack STOP!"
He is greeted with a flying hedgehog soft plush. My aim is purposely rubbish. It never hits him but comes close enough to break his concentration. It sometimes comes close enough to break some odds and ends on the tables.
I have to stop tossing the Hedgehog. The last time it bounced off the Hurricane Window and fell behind the TV Coffin.
The TV Coffin is a large dark cabinet that reminds me of my credenza from my office in the working days. It has an elevator that never works right because power here is so dirty here and full of power pops. It confuses the electronics.
I give up,
At least I am able to have the rest of that glass of Iced Tea.
"No Rack, not for dogs".
No more cheese on the plate anyway. Since the carbo crash hour is happening. I'm resting after burning 2000 calories going round in big circles around the gas bag in the barn in the park.
But that delivered package? A big bag of Root Beer Barrels.
"No, Rack, that's not for dogs. Here, sniff."
Annoying furry little idiot and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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