I awoke way too early this morning (3:20 am), and that is, of course, when all the ills and fears and troubles rear their ugly heads. Not to mention, I was hot. So I thrashed a bit, and then I awoke again at a proper hour (7:45). I got up and began my morning ritual (my gosh: I am old, if I have a morning ritual) of starting coffee, feeding cats and fish in the grotto.
The grotto was cool. The sky was overcast. Could it be? A cool morning?
But I saw trees swaying. Not a good sign.
I headed into the study and consulted NOAA Weather. It said: "Ride your bikes into church this morning with the glorious overcast sky, the 70ยบ temperature, and the 18 mph tailwind."
Yippee! I trotted into our bedroom where that Spouse o' Mine was STILL catatonic, nudged him furtively and announced the weather report. Once. Twice. Waiting for movement, waiting for signs of life...
He rolled over, and that was his downfall. I announced the weather report, and the fact that we should take advantage of it, and please, please, PLEASE LET'S DO THIS!
He got up. He made it to the coffee maker. And he shut down.
I prodded him once again: Come on! It will be GREAT! It will be your recovery ride! (Because last night he rode 38 miles to my 8 miles...)
After quite a bit of cheerleading, prodding w/ a verbal cattle prod (call it as you see it.), he opted in. This, after I was already in my normal cycling shorts and jersey. Cycling shoes on. Ready to go, I was.
But, wait. Why is HE putting on church clothes? Pants and a shirt? What the heck?!
He didn't want to stand out, apparently.
But off we went, he in his church clothes, and I in cycling shorts (I changed from my jersey to a shirt which would "work" with the skirt I had in my backpack, along with my kicky summer sandals.)
I have to mention here, that I felt like I was cycling with some Mormon missionary.
The 13 or so miles went quickly: 19-20 mph average, and even a few 25 mph stretches. We got to church, and I pulled off my backpack. That Spouse o' Mine mentioned that I had sweat marks on my back. Ick. I had not anticipated that! I went inside and traded my cycling shorts for the skirt and sandals, and we went into the sanctuary.
Church.
After church (well, I have to say, that Spouse o' Mine opted to leave service right after communion {so that noone would see us}, we hopped on our bikes, to go to his place of employment, where he had a car parked: YAY for this (and this was our plan all along), we would drive home in the cool of car AC instead of battling hot and humid headwinds which might indeed make me swear - this after a nice church service.
But Lo & Behold! Some 24 hours, and again some 2 hours, beforehand, that Spouse o' Mine had said, "You have got to get new tires for your bike."
Wowee. Is he a foreseer into the future, or what?! I turned into an intersection going quite fast, and not 15 seconds later, I felt an explosion on my legs: my back tire "blew". "Was blown" ? "Exploded"?
All I can say is that my legs felt the explosion. That Spouse o' Mine went ahead without me to collect the car, and I was left on a park bench to wave at passersby for several minutes.
Once home again, jiggety-jig, I mentioned that we were better off today for having done the ride, and that, yes, tomorrow I WILL get new tires on my bike.
I love that at age 51, I have worn out my bike tires.
No comments:
Post a Comment