"Maybe all one can do is hope to
end up with the right regrets."
Arthur Miller
A nice, albeit windy, day for a ride. I am tired from a Zwift session yesterday, and look forward to a leisurely, rather flat ride today on a real bike in a real world, even though with Corona it sometimes seems as if I am looking through a store window the way I used to do at Christmas time when my mother would take me to Cincinnati to see the windows. How beautiful those windows were, decorated with glistening snow and mechanical whimsical figures, evergreen and holly in deep greens accentuated by red, brilliant and cheerful matching my excitement about the holiday to come. One year I remember a real deer in the window. A magical world, but one that excluded me. Look, but no touching allowed.
I think of how last night I turned my calendar to May and saw where, before Corona, I had marked my much anticipated bicycle trip to Wisconsin this month. A hoped for trip to see my granddaughter. The TMD centuries that I had hoped to ride were marked as well. My canceled bicycling trip in Alaska that was supposed to happen this summer also marked, though not in the month of May. Dreams that are not to happen, at least anytime in the near future. The words of a Joni Mitchell song ring through my brain as they have so often lately: "Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til its gone."
How things have changed. Life is determined to teach me that I must flow with the tide. I think how grateful I am that I got to ride with Greg Z. and Steve R. last fall. I recall the delightful lunch that Steve's wife provided for us in the midst of a ride, the laughter, the beauty of the table setting, the comfort that comes from being with friends. I miss meal sharing. How glad I am that Amelia and I got our bicycle trip from Inverness to Edinburgh in last summer before reality changed. A lucky decision, the one I made to retire a bit early, at least as far as travel. What Corona will ultimately mean for all of us, nobody really yet knows. Or for how long. I try to be grateful I am that so far I am okay, physically and financially, at least thus far.
I decide that I should probably think for a bit about my Mom. She is gone, but Mother's Day approaches rapidly and I like to take some time to think about her. I miss my Mom, but I am glad that she does not have to go through this as she did so many things in her lifetime.
For some reason, I think of one day that she and I were on the swing set in the back yard. We are taking turns reciting "One, two buckle my shoe." I remember how much fun it was, just my mother and me, swinging in the sunshine. My mom read to me when I was young, but I don't have any other memories of her actually playing with me outdoors other than that day. Do I not remember or did it not happen? I know she was busy. With five children and a busy social life, my mom had little time to sleep and less to play.
I think about one time when she and my father were getting ready to go out. Mom was at her dresser and had on her mink. She wore Chanel Number 5, elegant and classy. I remember stroking the mink covering her arm and thinking that I must have the prettiest Mom in the world.
This leads me to wonder about what memories my children will have of me. I know this Mother's Day will be the first that I remember since having children that I will, in all likelihood, be alone.
The road calls my attention back as a woman with a child in the passenger seat passes me only to brake and turn right in front of me to get to the covered bridge at Medora. She obviously has no idea that bicycles don't brake as cars do, and I have to apply both brakes quickly and with force. Shaking my head at her thoughtlessness, I move onward.
At Medora, the store is now officially closed. Windows are draped in black plastic. Next to it sits the long defunct ice cream store. But I do find a bait shop that has opened since I last rode through and advertises that they have chips. I don't enter. During this time of Corona, I am self-supported with water and a snack. But it is good to know for the future assuming the store makes it. My history with the town tells me that it is difficult for any business to survive.
Facing the wind, I head home picking the longer route despite tired legs. The sun in shining and the next two days don't look promising weather wise. Since I am not worried about pace, the wind is not a huge issue since I am not actively fighting it to reach a goal pace. I think of how days are running into each other with appointments being canceled and not kept. I am still adjusting to the new reality.
I think of my sister-in-law, for the 5th will be the first anniversary of the loss of my brother, Chris. How I miss him. How hard it will be for her. As I told her this morning, there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my husband, but it does get better. It is no longer accompanied by a pain as sharp as being cut by knife.
Thoughts of my husband bring me back to gratefulness that once, out of the blue, he bought me a bicycle, a gift I wondered what I would do with but have come to love. Sometimes it seems as if it were part of a plan, as if he knew where I would go with it and the strength, both mental and physical, that it would bestow upon me. The comfort that I would find there. How many times during a longer brevet, being 600 kilometers in, I wanted to throw in the towel? But I learned patience and endurance and that dark moments pass to be replaced by moments made more sweet by that very darkness.
I am home. I greet the cats, park my bike, get the mail, and begin to prepare a recovery meal. Counting blessings. Yes, I had to cancel trips that I was looking forward to and I will always regret that, but at least it is the right kind of regret.
The road calls my attention back as a woman with a child in the passenger seat passes me only to brake and turn right in front of me to get to the covered bridge at Medora. She obviously has no idea that bicycles don't brake as cars do, and I have to apply both brakes quickly and with force. Shaking my head at her thoughtlessness, I move onward.
At Medora, the store is now officially closed. Windows are draped in black plastic. Next to it sits the long defunct ice cream store. But I do find a bait shop that has opened since I last rode through and advertises that they have chips. I don't enter. During this time of Corona, I am self-supported with water and a snack. But it is good to know for the future assuming the store makes it. My history with the town tells me that it is difficult for any business to survive.
Facing the wind, I head home picking the longer route despite tired legs. The sun in shining and the next two days don't look promising weather wise. Since I am not worried about pace, the wind is not a huge issue since I am not actively fighting it to reach a goal pace. I think of how days are running into each other with appointments being canceled and not kept. I am still adjusting to the new reality.
I think of my sister-in-law, for the 5th will be the first anniversary of the loss of my brother, Chris. How I miss him. How hard it will be for her. As I told her this morning, there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss my husband, but it does get better. It is no longer accompanied by a pain as sharp as being cut by knife.
Thoughts of my husband bring me back to gratefulness that once, out of the blue, he bought me a bicycle, a gift I wondered what I would do with but have come to love. Sometimes it seems as if it were part of a plan, as if he knew where I would go with it and the strength, both mental and physical, that it would bestow upon me. The comfort that I would find there. How many times during a longer brevet, being 600 kilometers in, I wanted to throw in the towel? But I learned patience and endurance and that dark moments pass to be replaced by moments made more sweet by that very darkness.
I am home. I greet the cats, park my bike, get the mail, and begin to prepare a recovery meal. Counting blessings. Yes, I had to cancel trips that I was looking forward to and I will always regret that, but at least it is the right kind of regret.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment