Cycling

Behind me is a place that will soon be a brewery.
That's going to be a nice treat after a long ride!

The temperature and wind finally cooperated yesterday for me to take my first bike ride of the season and so begins my mileage log for 2020. I did an ambitious 18 miles from my house to the neighboring town and back, mostly on the hike and bike trail with a couple miles of road riding to get there. I figured if I did 10 miles that would be a great start, but my legs felt strong, and it was absolutely gorgeous out, so I pushed on without issue.

Fewer people were on the roads, but more people were out on the trails than usual. For the most part, people kept their distance and were polite and intelligent. I say for the most part because there's always the expert cyclist who thinks he's too cool to announce that he's passing on the left or the people who don't wear helmets because they're "just on the trail" regardless if a pandemic is raging (someday, I'll tell you about my accident on the trail and how grateful I was to have a helmet and all my teeth when it was all said and done).

That being said, yesterday was a very good day, physically and emotionally. Life almost felt normal—I almost felt normal—and I went to bed feeling good.

Today was anything but.

I spent most of the day in bed, except for the two hours I watched Palm Sunday Mass with a friend and had breakfast together. Then I crawled back in bed under my weighted blanket for the rest of the afternoon, dozing here and there, but mostly just trying to wrap my head around the awful loneliness I feel. In these pandemic times, some days are like a good downhill with the wind at your back; today was like climbing a monster hill into the wind with one gear.

From my neighborhood, I can easily access four trails in less than two miles. For the last eight years, I've been riding them regularly and know the subtleties in elevation of each one so I can prepare my gears. Sometimes before I go, I check the weather and decide which trail I want to ride based on wind direction and speed. I know which trails have water fountains and bathrooms, and for the ones that don't, I make sure I know how to get to the nearest mini-mart for provisions and facilities. I'm also keenly aware of my location in case I need to get picked up, like the time a yellow jacket stung me twice above the eye seven miles from home (I always think I can be a hero and ride back. Nope.). Riding has taught me to be disciplined and prepared. For the most part, the strategies I employ to have a good, safe ride work until there's an emergency. I usually learn about the gaps in my preparation the hard way.

I find myself in strange territory right now, on trails I've never seen before—that most of us have never seen before. I don't feel prepared. There are going to be uphills and downhills that both crush me and delight me—and you. Cycling through them is going to require discipline, patience, and self-acceptance. This is our century ride. It's going to be long and arduous.

P.S. With all of this free time on my hands, maybe this is the year I'll check that century ride (100 miles) off my list.