Riding again. And again.

Great success! As Borat might say. I got das boot off, upgraded to a smaller lighter, much more aero lace up brace. I was cleared to ride, short flat easy rides. And to down hill ski, “probably a half day or so”. Well, if I can ski, I can definitely ride. Knowing myself (and as they say, know thy self), I am much less likely to hurt myself riding than skiing. For example, I am probably the only person on the face of the planet who can twist an ankle IN ski boots (of course there was a tree, ice, zombies, and a rabid chipmunk involved).

I kind of ignored Dr. Lawton’s “advice” (aka orders) and decided to go for a ride. I really wanted to ride with Cody (who will now hence forth be known as Smac Diablo – he might be nerdier than me!) but his schedule for finals has pretty much kept him under lock and key. So I had to do this on my own. And I was scared. Fucking terrified. Dear gods, the last time I rode, I ended up in the hospital and had to be surgically repaired. So I was scared of all those connotations with bikes and breaking important body parts (pinkies and similar appendages = meh, ankles and joints = important). No, I wasnt on my mountain bike (I’m not that cavalier with doctor’s orders), but I had to get over the mental hurdle. So I did. I got my superhero suit on, shoved my ankle brace in my shoe. And then I stood there. Tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt stupid, I couldn’t really rationalize why I was crying, but I could not get it to stop either. Tears still flowing, I walked to the garage, pumped up my tires, lubed my chain, and told Fondy that everything will be ok. Mostly to reassure myself.

Those first few pedal strokes were scary. I had no idea what to expect. Was there going to be pain? If there was going to be pain, how bad will it be? I knew I was weak, but how weak? As soon as I turned the pedals over a few times, I remembered. My muscles were being used again. Some of the fear started to slowly diminish. I still was unsure and tentative, until I hit my first decent. My wings unfurled and I flew. I soared. I cried again, but these were tears of joy and elation, gone were my fears. Damn did I miss this. So I rode and rode; down the sunny strip of sinuous asphalt, also known as hwy 250. By normal standards (and still mine) I did not ride far. However, for not having ridden in almost 3 months, this was epic and perfect and exactly what I needed. Home, after 18 miles I was one tired unit. A very happy and tired cyclist. A flat to rolling 18 miles was so much more than I was expecting, and I felt great. I stood up on the hills. I pushed it a little here and there. Only after I got off the bike, did I have any discomfort or pain. I have less endurance than I used to, I have less muscle mass, and I have less speed. But I have all that is beautiful and perfect and wonderful in the world – I have my bliss back.