A Bicycle on Ice
It’s been a long five weeks! Time slips by, and the snow builds up and the wind continues to howl. Five weeks ago, on no particular day, the sun was a rare showcase of warm brilliance. And I decided, as I reached for my car keys, that I would take my bike. With plenty of time, I packed up panniers and rode out into the wind. The sunshine penetrated my winter layers and was so amazingly warm and wonderful. It was so beautiful feeling the sweet speed of my ride and hearing the gentle quiet once again. Dang . . . I missed it!
From roadway to bike path, I went along into winter’s sun-filled landscape. And then I stopped. The bike path was a solid, four inch thick sheet of ice stretching straight and level as far as the eye can see. I had time. I got off my bike and walked, and slipped and bartered my way over the frozen waterway. And then a little voice came into my morning. A voice of stupid and bravado and hideousness. A little voice that kept imploring me to ride. I lined that voice up with glimpses of small segments of hope found in minute patches of soil and little swathes with pine needles. Seriously. (You are neck deep in the way my brain “works.”)
Maybe it was the blinding light of the sun on the ice. Maybe it was a dip in blood sugar. But at the end of the day, and nearing the end of the path, I rode on ice . . . for three seconds. My back tire went left, my body went right, and I broke my fall with my elbow and coccyx. Do you know anything more forgiving than ice? Everything.
Well, for the past five weeks, I”ve kept my chiropractor on speed dial, worked with a massage therapist and sat on yoga bricks to keep my little tailbone from raging against that little voice on the bikepath.
Good news though. With all my down time, I have organized my cycling trips for 2017 and look forward to sharing in the coming weeks. I have also learned to be a little more patient through this thing called “winter.”
Nope. Just kidding . . . .