We've all heard that, as a result of the COVID-19 epidemic, some things "won't be the same." We have some ideas about some of the things that might change--schools, workplaces and such--but we also know that there will be changes that few, if any, of us can predict.
That, I believe, motivates us to want--and celebrate--a return to things that are familiar.
What I have just described can also describe recovering from a major illness, accident or other trauma. At least, that's how I feel about the aftermath of my crash.
Finally getting on my bike last week, if only for a short ride, was a sign that at least something in my life was on its way to normalcy. Riding again the other day--and making a dessert I've wanted to make for a long time--was another.
Yesterday I took another step--or ride, if you will--toward life as I knew it.
For the first time in more than a month, I pedaled to Point Lookout. At 120 kilometers, give or take, it's the longest ride I've done since my accident.
The good news is that in my neck and shoulders, where pain has persisted, feel better than they did yesterday or at any time in the past month. I still feel some twinges and stiffness, but simply holding my head up doesn't tire me.
I felt pretty good in general. The only "bad news," if you can call it that, is that I felt more tired than I usually feel at the end of such a ride. Part of my fatigue was a result of not having done such a ride in more than a month. Another part of my tiredness came from having pedaled into a fairly brisk wind from the southeast, under a bright sun, all the way to Point Lookout. Of course, I had the wind at my back on my way home, but there was still nothing between me and solar rays but my sunscreen.
What I've said about the sun and wind isn't a complaint: I could hardly have had a more beautiful day on which to complete one more step on my return to what is normal in my life. I wonder what will change.
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