I Haven't Gone Away

I have not met most of you, but I have missed you.

Perhaps a week is not a long time, in the scheme of things, not to post on a blog.  But, considering that I've posted nearly daily for most of the past dozen years, it seems like an eternity.

This year has been, at once, utterly routine and strange, so far.  According to the weather forecasters and climatologists, this has been one of the mildest winters on record.  And we've had no snow of any consequence.  Yet this has been, probably, the worst winter for my health, both physical and mental.  If nothing else, that lends credence to what I've long believed:  Moving to Florida, or any place that doesn't have seasons as we have (actually, have had) them in this part of the world probably won't help me in my old age, whenever I reach, or admit that I've reached, it.

Anyway, I have been afflicted with what seems to be a "rebound" of the respiratory infection* that struck me at or after the end of my Paris trip last month.  When "catching up" with a friendly neighbor I hadn't seen in months, I mentioned it. "Maybe you didn't want to come back."

"Actually, I didn't.  Things are so crazy here."

She nodded.  "I know.  We're lucky to be here," she said, referring to New York. "But I don't know how much longer it will be before the rest of the country, and here, is like the place I left":  a state that, while it has a somewhat sane governor, has a legislator every bit as maniacally antithetical to LGBTQ equality, bodily autonomy and anything else I regard as a basic human value.

I mentioned my illness, in its onset and recurrence.  "I think you really didn't want to come back," she said.

I nodded.

"You should have requested asylum."

My eyes widened. "I would have. But how?"

"Well, look at all of the crazy people who've been elected.  They're a danger to your life."

"Yes.  I get more and more scared every day."

She took a long look at me.  Her dog sniffed around my ankles and clambered up my leg.  I stroked his ecru curls.

"I don't blame you."

"Since I came back, I don't feel as if I've been home--except for when I write and ride my bike."  And, I added, my illness has sapped me of the energy to do either.

The good news is that I finally did some riding this past weekend.  More about that later.

*--I have been reluctant to talk about it with anybody because, these days, if you're not well for more than two days in a row, too many people are quick to assume that it's COVID--which my doctor assures me that it isn't.  Not that having COVID is a marker of one's character (My vaccines are all up to date, BTW).  I just get tired of, not only the assumptions, but the gaslighting and irrelevant "advice" (thinly-disguised admonitions) that too often accompany them.

Wonder wheel

I'm still a little bit under the weather.  But I'm getting better.  I even managed to go for a ride with Bill.

After the ride, at his apartment, he showed me his bike rack and we talked about the challenges of fitting multiple bikes in NYC dwellings.

Although it probably wouldn't fit into either of our apartments, I'd like this rack:

I hope you enjoy the last "Sunday funny" of this year!

A Nice Way To Recover

Another ride to Point Lookout today.  Trust me, I'm going to do other long(er) rides soon.  But I think I had good reasons for doing the ride again today after doing it on back-to-back days last weekend.

Actually, I hadn't planned to such a long ride (about 105 km, or 65 miles).  I'd been feeling a bit under the weather for the last couple of days.  Today I felt a bit better and the weather was nearly perfect:  sunny, with some wind, 15-17C (60 to 65F).  So I started off down the street from my apartment and down a few more that could have taken me to the Rockaways, Coney Island or other points south in Brooklyn or Queens.

When I crossed Atlantic Avenue on Woodhaven Boulevard, I knew I was headed to the Rockaways. If I pedaled just to Rockaway Beach and back, that would be about 50 km.  I got there, feeling good, and took a left out toward Arverne and Far Rockaway.

Now, there isn't much noteworthy in Far Rockaway except for the beach, where the dunes are lovely but the water is still too cold (about 7 or 8 degrees C) to swim.  Going to the Rockaways on my bike usually means one thing:  crossing the bridge into Nassau County--Atlantic Beach, to be exact--and riding along the South Shore.

Mind you, on my way down to the Rockaways I rode into a wind that buffeted me on my right side as I rode along the coastline.  Still, I was feeling much better than I expected, so I kept on riding.  

The Point was quiet today, but the tide had come in.  So, where I saw sandbars last week, I saw this:

The water must have been rough because I didn't see anyone sailing or windsurfing.  But when you're on a bike, it doesn't matter.  Especially mine:  they always ride great.

On the way back, I felt something go "thump" and heard a clank. I was imagining the worst:  a flat tire and some part fallen off my bike.  But I couldn't imagine what:  Everything is tight and well-maintained.  I looked back and found this:

Most of you have a tool just like it. I have two or three.  It doesn't hurt to have another, as it includes the allen key sizes (4, 5 and 6mm) most commonly used on bicycles.  So I'm going to hold onto it--or give it to someone.  After all, the ride was a fine reward.  I feel good now.

The Season Changes And Everything's Right Again--For Now

 It just figures:  As soon as my by started functioning again, my computer stopped. 

What that's meant is that the other day, I did my first 100K+ ride in more than a month.  And I had near-prefect conditions for riding--but not for posting on this blog!

Anyway, it felt like my first fall ride. I know that it was, according to the calendar.  But everything about the sea, sky and their light made it seem, in the most sensual ways, that the season had indeed changed.

The sky,  though overcast, brought  no real threat of rain.  Rather, it spread like a quilt made of leaves grown sere if not heavy over a skin that has darkened as it remained translucent. Perhaps it is the reason why I felt comforted, but not tired, by the time I got to Point Lookout, even though I'd been pedaling into the wind and, as I mentioned, I hadn't taken a long (or even longish) ride in some time.

Riding home with the wind made me feel as if I were bringing the power of the muted and diffuse, though not dim, light the sea and sky spread with the new season.