We’ve recently had a family member move in with us, and the last week has been a time of adjustment for all involved. Personally, I’ve found it a challenge adjusting to our new co-habitator’s routines, habits and quirks. That is not to imply that I am myself without my own quirks, I cannot abide the revoltingly pointless Henley shirt, for example, as to me it seems frivolous with its superfluous buttons and I always forget that it was not, in fact invented by Don Henley, which would make me despise the shirt even more. But I digress. It’s been a topsy turvy week at the Schmalz home, with our new lodger requiring us to amend our routines and modify our daily regimens to accommodate his presence.

The greatest adjustment we’ve had to make so far is getting used to the fact that our lodger wakes and urinates in the middle of the kitchen every night. I must apologize if I’ve been unclear up to now, but I don’t think I’ve mentioned that our new family member is a dog (my dad, when he comes to visit, urinates mostly in the yard at night). His name is Happy and he’s a beagle/basset hound mix (known as a "bagel hound"—a combination moniker that is far superior to the sum of its parts, in my opinion). He is 13 years old, which is pretty old for a dog. His previous owners were an older couple who sadly weren’t able to care for him any more, so we swooped in and rescued him.

There’s actually many benefits to adopting an older dog. They come pre-trained. Happy knows how to walk on a leash, he’s housebroken (during the day) and he knows to not chew heirlooms or get up on the furniture. They are also tired. Since he is older, Happy, when he is not out for a walk, likes to lay down; and while reclined he enjoys being rubbed, which brings forth satisfied grunts and groans from his reposed figure. He then falls asleep and snores. Older dogs also have a lot to teach us about life. They remind us that living things are not through with their usefulness once they get to be a certain age. Sadly Happy will not be around forever, but he will help teach my kids about the circle of life, and hopefully the end of life lessons they learn from Happy will stay with my kids, as I too will pass one day, and they will have to bury me in the backyard also.

But, most importantly, by adopting an older dog, I bring myself one step closer to going to PETA heaven. (Did you know the afterlife is separated according to non-profits? It is! So choose your charities wisely.) PETA heaven is a wonderful place populated by actors, celebrities and super models without clothing—sure there’s lots of well-meaning folks in comfortable footwear—but they are there for maintenance duties. And the ironic thing about PETA heaven? All the animals go to another heaven, because those PETA folks can be a bit smothering sometimes.

I am writing a training log and not a LOL dogz blog (which would probably be more profitable, actually), but I am tempted to make parallels between Happy and my athletic self (and I know writing about my pet is a pathetic ploy, but I am nothing if not a hack-ish writer). Like a good bike racer, Happy spends most of his day recovering. He has brief moments where he bounds like a puppy (these moments are usually food related), but then he quickly comes to his senses and lays back down on the carpet. This is the perfect way for bike racers to behave, i.e. expend as much energy as you can and then immediately find a place to collapse. In fact, I think I may start a coaching program based on this dog model. I’ll call it the "K9 path to results™". Its ethos is as follows: expend energy only when necessary; lie down right away; get rubbed whenever you can; and whizz all over the kitchen floor every night.

The K9 path to results founder, feel free to say "awwwww".

Friday October 1, 2010

Today I rode the rollers for 30 minutes, it wasn’t my first roller ride of the year (officially, that was yesterday), but let’s pretend that it was for internet dramatic purposes. I would like to report that riding the rollers is just as revolting as I remember it to be. That’s a slight exaggeration, actually. Rollers aren’t so revolting really, I just haven’t set up a proper roller media diversionary apparatus yet. Riding rollers without anything interesting to watch is a punitive activity. Rollers, for those who are new to the log this year, are: a device which cyclists use to eradicate any enthusiasm they have left for riding bikes; a magical time machine that makes every second on them feel like thirty; and they are a fickle device that requires balancing mindfully on three rolling drums lest you fall off and crash to the sound of the episode of "One Life to Live" you were watching. 

I ride a set of the big barrel Kreitlers, which I bought used in 1993 or thereabouts. That means I’ve had the same rollers for 17 odd years, and I’ve only had to replace the rubber band once. With that strategy of anti-planned obsolescence, I marvel at how the Kreitler company has stayed in business. I could probably be buried with my Kreitlers—but I will stipulate in my will that I have a proper media delivery system installed, as I would hate to miss any episodes of One Life to Live just because I’m dead.

Sunday October 3, 2010

Since the arrival of Happy at our house, finding time to squeeze in a ride has been complicated by acquainting ourselves with his schedules (for eating, sleeping, exercising and, um, for disposal of those items eaten), but I snuck downstairs under the guise of assembling a flat pack (the generic term for Ikea) cabinet. I actually enjoy assembling these items, and I’ve grown quite adept at putting these press board concoctions together. And since I used the assembly of the cabinet as an excuse to get down to the basement and then surreptitiously rode my rollers for 40 minutes, I’m going to include the construction of the cabinet in my training log as "a sub sub threshold interval with gentle cursing".

Monday October 4, 2010

The forecast for today is for rain, which is also the forecast for the next three days. I cannot stand the idea of riding rollers for nearly a week straight so soon in the season, so I thought I would put all of my matching colorful clothing to use, and head out on a moist Monday. Bike racers have a fetish for things Belgian (thanks for nothing Ralpha), and this fetish usually manifests itself in many repellent ways, such as riding outside on a Monday in October when you could be enjoying One Life to Live on rollers. But that’s what I did today, and afterwards I arrived home with a wet behind and a smug feeling of Belgian-ness, which coincidentally feels a lot like a wet ass.

Tuesday October 5, 2010

Today I set my 2011 training season record for longest roller ride. I rode for 45 minutes. I’m still a bit scarred from it.

Thursday October 7, 2010

After what’s seemed like a flotilla of ark’s worth of rain, the skies cleared and I escaped from the clutches of the world of conference calls and emailed revisions. I spent an hour and a half with the sun in my face and the only thoughts of note that ran through my mind were "left", "right" and "faster".