Woooof...

So he's not in as good of shape as he used to be. Give him some time.

Today, Biker Dude got up early to put in some miles. Motivation: to lose ten pounds by late May.
He headed down the trail south of the route 20 overpass and, where the trail split into two, the left branch heading to Wheaton, and the right to St. Charles, he took the right.

Upon taking the St. Charles branch, one comes into a place, for about a quarter mile, where the trail zig-zags through a small, and densely packed, forest. The trees and thorn bushes are close enough to reach out and touch, and the canopy of branches and leaves above blocks out all light. Along with that, there's a series of four short, but steep, hills that experienced riders call "rollers."

It's basically a quick, three dimensional, side to side, up and down, rollercoaster-like experience, depending on how fast one rides ride it.

This particular morning, Biker Dude rode along at a reasonable 14-15 mile per hour pace. It was a little hard to open up the throttle at five in the morning when, 1) he was as out of shape as Biker Dude happened to be, 2) he couldn't see very well... and 3) when all you have for light is an LED pocket flashlight strapped onto the front handlebars. The flashlight liked to move around too. So along with the lack of any real brightness, there was the constant need to re-adjust where it pointed. Half the time Biker Dude steered with one hand and kept the flashlight in place with the other.

No big deal. He'd ridden this way hundreds of times. Not all of them in the dark though. But he knew the dips and curves well. And usually, there'd be nothing much to be concerned himself about except to watch that he didn't slip off the sides of the trail as he negotiated the twists and turns.

Usually.

As always when there was no competition nearby egging him on, he rode on auto-pilot. His mind off in another world. He thought about yard work that needed to be done and writing that needed revision. As well as the normal Biker Dude-ish thoughts: the number of calories this ride would use up, how far did he want to go that day, and how these dang spandex shorts pinched.

His focus was yanked back to the present when, as he passed a thicket of bushes on his right, there came a rustling. Then a growl. A low one with the bass turned way up. Then whatever it was jumped up from where it had apparently lie in wait and stepped out behind him onto the trail.

He figured it wasn't a raccoon. Mainly because this animal had more of a macho sound than any raccoon he'd ever heard. A raccoon on steroids, maybe. But, contrary to all other animals' behaviors, whatever this was decided not to run the other way, as raccoons and squirrels and skunks especially seemed to do.

No. This thing started chasing him.

Now, besides having to keep his eyes on the path and steer with one hand, he had to try to stay alive.

Then it barked. He felt the fillings in his molars loosen up. This was no ordinary bark. This bark could rattle windows and loosen rusty bolts.

If he'd even glanced back, he'd for sure end up crashed or into the bushes, in which case, he'd be dog food.

So he pedaled like hell, or as close of an approximation to hell given the circumstances.
But it continued to bark, and it was catching up.

He remembered what a fellow biker had told him once and decided to try to do some barking of his own, thinking, "whatever it is back there.. 1) it seems to be gaining on me and 2) Shit!.Shit Shit... and 3) maybe I can confuse it by barking back at it. Even though it can see me and I can't see it and if it had a thinking brain it would know that it had the advantage."

He tried that, thinking at the same time that anybody who might hear him going past their house, like say they were up and brushing their teeth or getting ready for work, or getting in their car, was going to think, "What the heck? Is that a guy barking? That's it.. I'm moving out of this weirdo state."

So, after a fierce chase of about half a block, Biker Dude -- yes, he must confess, he got tired and all sprinted out -- was caught. But, instead of taking a chomp out of Biker Dude's leg, the dog pulled along side and just went wooofing past him.

He looked over, and it was like being passed by one of those Fed-Ex semis you see on the interstate. Where two semis, sometimes three, are strung together. It was a Great Dane, about seven feet long and as high as he was. And he was up on top of a bike! It just cruised by, looking like it was in slow motion.

It didn't, out of courtesy, say, "On your left." It just barked and went by like Biker Dude was not even there.

And then, like all the those before who have passed Biker Dude on the trail, as soon as it passed him, it turned off the trail.

"Huh?" he thought. "I was just getting a second wind. No giving me a chance to try to reel you back in? What's with that? "

No. It just turned off the trail. It kept on barking as it crashed through an opening to the side and vanishing into the dark.

The barking faded away behind him.

Or... maybe it was laughing?

Meanwhile his heart was going a thousand miles an hour, and his legs felt like a melted hand full of gummi bears, and he still had at least another 20 miles to go.

"Wooof" indeed.

He sure showed biker dude who was boss.