Marlee’s Home

 

After The Ride

 So why, dear readers, have you not heard from me since the Fourth?

(You might also be wondering why I’ve started this post with a question that sounds like something from an 18th Century epistleary novel. But I digress.)

No, I didn’t spend the past two days recovering from a wild birthday bash. 

Saturday, the day after the Fourth, could hardly have been better for cycling : temperatures reached the low 80s (27-28C), the sun illuminated high cirrus clouds and moderate wind blew in from the southeast. And surprisingly little traffic claimed the roadway. 

So of course I rode. On such a day I expected to see more people than I saw on the sand or in the water at Rockaway and Long Beaches and Point Lookout. One section of Jacob Riis Park was full, but there was some sort of gathering or celebration in progress. I didn’t see anything like the crowds I expected (and feared) until I got to Coney Island, where it seemed that nobody went home after the previous day’s fireworks and hotdog eating contest (of which I never understood the appeal ).

As the day—Saturday, the day after the Fourth —had grown late, I knew that even if the volume of traffic didn’t grow, the level of alcohol consumption would . So I took the train home, happy with the 85 mile (140 km) ride I’d taken on a beautiful day .

My great mood ended when I got home and saw splotches—of blood?—scattered across the floor and Marlee lying in a small puddle, acknowledging me only with her eyes. No veterinary offices or clinics were open, so I left a message with Bronx Veterinary Center, the first to open yesterday morning .

After spending most of the day there, I got the prognosis: kidney stones and blockages in her digestive and excretory systems. She underwent surgery and will be there until tomorrow.

Last night was lonely: It was my first at home, in decades, without her—or any other cat.

Here’s To The Fourth

Today is Independence Day—the Fourth of Joo-lie—in the US.

I had planned to start the day by riding with “Sam,” my neighbor and sometime riding buddy. He now has a much nicer bike—which I helped him find and customize—than he rode last year. But he has to cancel: a family member called and needed help with something. He and his girlfriend still plan on getting together with me for dinner and a celebration—of our friendship and the holiday.

Since it also happens to be my birthday (No, I won’t tell you my age.  I’ll just say that I’m still in midlife!) I am reflecting on my past, including my brief racing career (if you can call it that). I took myself way too seriously. I guess that’s a consequence of feeling you have to prove yourself at every moment, even if you don’t really know what you’re trying to prove or if it bears little or no relation to reality, or to whom you’re trying to prove it (or if they don’t care).

Now that I can look back at my younger self and say, “It’s OK,” I would love to show up for a race on a bike like this:

just to mess with my younger self and all of those guys (yes, they were male) who took themselves too seriously as I did.

(By the way, today is my birthday. I won’t tell you my age, only that I am still in midlife!)