Recovery: I Want It Now!

I am learning new meanings to words I've long used: "trauma" and "recovery."

The "lesson," if you will, came yesterday.  I pedaled up to Harbor Island Park (in Mamaroneck) and back.  That's a little more than my typical "long" ride to and from Greenwich, Connecticut.  Yet it tired me out more than the trek to and from the Nutmeg State.

One reason, of course, is that I have done so little riding since my accident.  Until then, this riding season had been one of my best in a long time:  I'd been spinning 300 kilometers or more a week since the first of January.  I think I had been more than making up for the commuting miles I lost once I started working from home.

Still, I found it hard to believe that I could have lost so much conditioning in less than a month.  Whether or not I did, there was another clue as to why I went horizontal after my ride:  I realized that I'd drunk the full contents of my water bottle--in addition to another bottle of water and an energy drink I picked up along the way.  

Yesterday turned out to be the hottest day I've ridden this year:  A bank thermometer in Larchmont gave a reading of 34C, or 94F.  And the sun was beating down on me.   Even after replenishing my sun screen, I could see and feel my skin reddening.

As it happened, my doctor called just after I got home to schedule an appointment.  I complained that a ride "I can do in my sleep" left me exhausted.  "Well, you're suffering from trauma," he reminded me.  "That's what trauma does to you."  Even though I haven't experienced any loss of cognition and the only pain I'm feeling is around my shoulders, my body is still dealing with the shock of the crash, he explained.  "Don't beat yourself up," he admonished me.

From Active.com

That is when I realized what "recovery" means:  You don't snap your fingers or flick a switch and return to what was before the shock, before the trauma.  Recovery is a process, and processes nearly always take time.

Still, I want to ride as I did a month ago. And I want it now!

New Life For An Old Ride

"Am I getting old? Or is the bike?"

I replied "no" to both questions because, well, it was the truth.  At that time, I wouldn't have called myself "middle-aged," and she was a good bit younger than I was.  And, as a sometime bike mechanic, I knew that most bikes, unless they've been crashed or left in an undersea cave, can be salvaged.

We used to ride together from work because she lived about halfway between our workplace and my apartment and I enjoyed her company.  Also, we left at night, and I had enough testosterone in me to see myself as her protector.

I offered to tune up her bike--a Dunelt three-speed that was probably even older than she was.  She offered to treat me to a "nice brunch."

She made good on her offer.  One day, I packed my bottle of Tri-Flo with my books and change of shoes.  During a break between classes, I jogged down to the campus bike rack.  She was nowhere in sight. I lubed her chain and inflated her tires with my Zefal HP frame pump.  That night, she marvelled that riding her bike seemed "so much easier." 

If I were a better (or simply nicer) person, I could have told her that she was getting stronger from her daily commute--which she most likely was.  Instead, I "confessed."

She marveled that simply keeping her tires inflated and chain lubed could make such a difference.  I admitted that they were a "major part" of bike maintenance, but reiterated my offer to make her bike "like new."  She never took me up on it.

Had she availed herself to my expertise, not only would her gears, brakes and other parts have worked better than she ever imagined they could; I would have shown her how simple it actually is to keep a bike (especially one like hers) running.

I thought about our offers to each other when I came across this article in Popular Science.  Its author, Stan Horaczek, understands something I've long known:  Most bikes can be "resurrected" as long as they haven't been crashed or have been stored underwater.    Better yet, most repairs that will make most long-dormant bikes functional don't require special tools.

So, if you want to start riding again and can't find a suitable ride at your local shop--or even Craigslist--there may be a "treasure" in your or a family member's or friend's basement or rafters.

Connect--Or Follow--The Dots

In a normal year, the Tour de France would be in its third or fourth stage right about now.  Depending on where the prologue was staged, the riders would be pedaling by Picardian poppy fields, zagging along la Cote Opale or, perhaps, winding past Burgundian vineyards.  While they might encounter some hills along the way, they probably would not have begun to ascend the tortuous mountain climbs for which the Tour is famous.

So, there wouldn't be much talk about who would be "crowned" King of the Mountains

and wear the "royal" polka dot jersey.

Perhaps the only riders who get more respect than its wearer are the ones who sport the overall leader's maillot jaune (yellow jersey) or the points leader's green jersey.  Having pedaled up a few Tour climbs, including the Alpe d'Huez, les deux Alpes, Col de Lauteret,  and le Col du Galibier, there are few athletes I admire more than those who make such ascents on a regular basis!

Plus, I'll admit, I am just enough of a fashionista to want to wear a polka dot jersey!