Welcome to the fourth installment of my month-long series about me and the 30 days of biking challenge. Over the month of April, I will take my bike out for at least a short ride every day. I’m also hoping to reduce my car use and perhaps even shed a pound or two. You might also want to read my first, second, third, fifth, and sixth installments.
Day 15: Thursday. My school is hosting our 5th annual Family Fun & Fitness Night tonight. We have about 300 people attend in spite of the rain, and I know that the door prizes are a big part of the turnout. The grand prizes? Two bikes, one for a boy, one for a girl, helmets and locks included. As a cyclist, I’m happy to see so much excitement about the bikes. I’m at school for over 12 hours, but I’m refreshed (and drenched) by a spring shower on my ride home at dusk.
Day 16: Friday. I’m leaving town very early this morning to spend a day in San Antonio. I’m up before everyone else and notice that we’re out of milk. I decide to do my husband a favor and run to the convenience store for a jug of milk. It’s still dark, and I’m in a hurry, so I grab the car keys and dash out the door. My mind is racing through the list of all the things I have to get done before I leave town. In a rush I pull into a dark corner of the parking lot and my headlights suddenly reveal a pedestrian only a foot or two in front of my bumper. I swerve sharply and come to a stop, my heart pounding. My hands are shaking as I get out of the car and look for the woman I almost hit; she’s gone. I enter the store in a daze, then drive home with a jug of milk and a frightened awareness of the hulking mass of steel at my command. It occurs to me that I never ride my bike as carelessly as I just drove my car; I almost killed a stranger because I was in a hurry to buy a jug of milk. It also occurs to me that when I’m riding my bike, the only life I put in jeopardy is my own.
I’m carpooling to San Antonio today with a friend who lives about 5 miles away. I originally thought about riding my bike to her house, but I never had the chance to try the route in the daylight, and we’re leaving before dawn. I discover, almost by accident, that the #10 Cap Metro bus is a straight shot from my house to hers, with only about a 1/4 mile walk at each end. Even though carpooling and taking the bus are not part of the 30 day bike challenge, they feel connected somehow; reducing my car use and increasing my social interactions.
I arrive home after a full day around 11:00 p.m. I’m in my pj’s before I remember the bike challenge. A quick ride around the block and then I’m off to bed.
Day 17: Saturday. So I’m all set: today’s the day I’m going to do my big weekly grocery shopping on my bike. I get my bike and my shopping bags ready, then get a call from my friend Nicole, who’s having a party tonight. I ask what I can do to help, and she asks me to pick up a few things from the store. I’m all for it, but when I see her list, I falter; Elliott is heading out with the kids in the box bike, but I circle back to get the car. I decide that 4 bottles of wine, 3 bottles of champagne, 4 bottles of soda, and two party trays are just too much, in addition to my regular shopping, for the xtracycle, the 5 miles to my favorite store, my less than adequate quads, and the threat of rain.
However, I do NOT wimp out entirely. Later that day, I load up all the above mentioned party supplies into my xtracycle bags and ride the 1/2 mile to Nicole’s house. She and her other guests were duly impressed.
Day 18: Sunday. Elliott and I again discuss the logistics of biking to our churches with the kids. However, we’ve waited too late for such an excursion, and end up taking the car as usual. That afternoon Miles begs us to go kite flying. We load up, me on the Electra, Elliott and the kids on the Gazelle Cabby, and take our kites to the school playground. The wind does not cooperate; I even try attaching the kite string to the back of my bike and pedaling across the grass, but to no avail. We have a good time anyway, smiling and waving to plenty of neighbors along the way. A beautiful Sunday afternoon, two eye-catching bikes, and a husband willing and able to tote our two cute kids. Life is good.
Day 19: Monday. I went to bed with a sore throat and wake up feeling under the weather. The numerous things in the back of the car that need to be taken to school give me a convenient excuse to drive rather than bike. I tell myself I’ll get my ride in this afternoon, but by the end of the day I am definitely sick. I stumble through the door around 4:30, take a shot of NyQuil, and crawl into bed. I made it 18 days with a ride every day, but day 19 is a bust. Damn.
Days 20 & 21: Tuesday & Wednesday. When your head feels like a watermelon, the exertion of walking from your bed to the couch causes a coughing fit, and you feel too miserable to even watch a movie on TV, I’m sorry, but a bike ride is simply out of the question. Besides, I could be arrested for BUI (biking under the influence) from all the NyQuil in my system.
Day 22: Thursday. I decide that I feel well enough to go back to work, but of course I made that decision while I was still laying down. I barely stumble through my day, trying not to cough all over the students, and again, around 4:30, find myself doped up on NyQuil and crashed out in bed.
Day 23: Friday. Still not 100%, but my head feels more like a honeydew than a watermelon, and I decide to lay off the heavy drugs and just go with ibuprofen. I again take the car to and from work, telling myself it’s just good sense to take it easy after being so sick, trying to ignore that little voice inside that accuses me of laziness. It’s a warm, sticky day, and I mourn spring’s too-early surrender to summer. Around 8:30 tonight, I decide it’s time to get back on the saddle again. My four days away from my bike have left me overly cautious, almost fearful; don’t overexert yourself, you might trigger another coughing fit; watch out for bubbas in pick-’m-up-trucks. All the old fears, the old excuses trying to reassert themselves. But as I pull out of my driveway, my neighbor hollers from his pick-’m-up-truck, “Hey there, neighbor!” I holler back, and suddenly, at least for the moment, the abyss between cyclist and pickup driver seems like a gully. The heat of the day is dying down, and the slight breeze on my face is nice. Then suddenly, a quick flicker of light. Then another. Fireflies. As I slowly roll around the neighborhood, gliding among the fireflies, I breath. My body gets reacquainted with the familiar rhythm of pedaling. The tension in my shoulders… releases.
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on Apr 24th, 2010 at 5:53 pm
We must have caught the same bug; I had to bail on 30 Days the same day you did. Glad to see you picked up again! (Me, too.)