Gloria Gaynor is most famous for I Will Survive.
I could have sung that to myself yesterday.
For my birthday, I simply had to end my longest spell without cycling in eleven years.
In 2009, I didn’t ride through most of the summer and fall. I was recovering from my gender-affirmation surgery. Although I missed riding, my doctor, therapist, friends and others helped me to prepare for my “vacation” from it. Also, I gave up those few months in the saddle for something I’d wanted for a very long time.
On the other hand, my latest spell without riding was induced by something that I did not foresee when I slung my leg over my bike. Most of us are aware that a crash or some other mishap can befall us, but I suspect that few, if any, of us ponder that possibility as we put our feet to the pedals.
The seeming randomness of my situation could explain why I felt more anxiety—and, perhaps paradoxically, urgency—about going for a ride.
Oddly enough, I was more worried about having lost strength and endurance during my latest period of healing than I was after the much longer period without riding that followed my surgery. Of course, my memory of walking up climbs no steeper than highway ramps in those days colored my perception of what my latest return to cycling would be like.
That fear, thankfully, was unfounded. Then again, I rode maybe 10 kilometers, so my legs weren’t challenged. I also didn’t notice any change in my balance or anything else.
I have to admit, though, I had an “oh no, not again moment when a delivery guy on an electric bike whipped around a turn and directly into my path.
We could have collided head-on. We didn’t. He could have side-swiped me and caused me to crash. He didn’t. I could have cursed him out, in English or Spanish. I didn’t.
Neither of us knew what the other had experienced a moment, a day or a month prior—or would experience. There were only our roads ahead of us, whether or not they would intersect again.
His next delivery, my next ride. Fate brought us to that moment. For now, at least, I know I can ride again because I rode yesterday and many days before. I have survived;
I hope I will continue to survive, and ride.
I could have sung that to myself yesterday.
For my birthday, I simply had to end my longest spell without cycling in eleven years.
In 2009, I didn’t ride through most of the summer and fall. I was recovering from my gender-affirmation surgery. Although I missed riding, my doctor, therapist, friends and others helped me to prepare for my “vacation” from it. Also, I gave up those few months in the saddle for something I’d wanted for a very long time.
On the other hand, my latest spell without riding was induced by something that I did not foresee when I slung my leg over my bike. Most of us are aware that a crash or some other mishap can befall us, but I suspect that few, if any, of us ponder that possibility as we put our feet to the pedals.
The seeming randomness of my situation could explain why I felt more anxiety—and, perhaps paradoxically, urgency—about going for a ride.
Oddly enough, I was more worried about having lost strength and endurance during my latest period of healing than I was after the much longer period without riding that followed my surgery. Of course, my memory of walking up climbs no steeper than highway ramps in those days colored my perception of what my latest return to cycling would be like.
That fear, thankfully, was unfounded. Then again, I rode maybe 10 kilometers, so my legs weren’t challenged. I also didn’t notice any change in my balance or anything else.
I have to admit, though, I had an “oh no, not again moment when a delivery guy on an electric bike whipped around a turn and directly into my path.
We could have collided head-on. We didn’t. He could have side-swiped me and caused me to crash. He didn’t. I could have cursed him out, in English or Spanish. I didn’t.
Neither of us knew what the other had experienced a moment, a day or a month prior—or would experience. There were only our roads ahead of us, whether or not they would intersect again.
His next delivery, my next ride. Fate brought us to that moment. For now, at least, I know I can ride again because I rode yesterday and many days before. I have survived;
I hope I will continue to survive, and ride.
