Out and About

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.

It is a beautiful day and I was deciding which car to drive to workout: the SUV or the sedan? Should I go to the Y or the university athletic center?

I couldn't do it.

Last week, I talked to my friend Daphne who had ACL surgery one and a half weeks before me. We talked about how we were doing, said we each looked great, etc. We compared stories on our recoveries.

"I went on a twenty mile bike ride a few weeks ago. You know, the trail that goes around Lake Washington..."

"My surgeon was fine with me riding bike, but my physical therapist said no. I should ask him again," I said.

"My surgeon and PT were the same," she said. "My surgeon was like 'Do anything!' and my PT was 'Hmmmm...'" I knew the feeling. "I am out of PT!" she continued. "I've graduated!"

I groaned. I like Daphne and all, but it is hard to see someone skate by you, both literally and metaphorically. She probably can roller blade, ice skate, and whatever. I was given leave of my brace and crutches three weeks after surgery, which is fast. She got out of hers in less than two weeks, which is almost crazy for someone who isn't a professional athlete. I wasn't able to flex my quad properly for a long stretch and go down stairs properly, which is slow. Healing isn't a linear business.

I thought about Daphne's twenty mile bike ride. It was sunny and seventy degrees outside. I couldn't ride indoors today. I could not ride on a stationary bike. I put on my bike shorts, helmet and gloves. I couldn't find my fanny pack, so I wore my bike jacket with pockets. I did abide my Evan's request that not to ride on streets or on hills, but I had to ride on the Burke Gilman Trail. There really isn't any other spot.

My tires were a little flat, but not terribly so. I walked my bike down to the bottom of the hill. Our hill has a fifteen percent grade, so there was no way I was going to ride down that bad boy. There is a sidewalk perpendicular to my street at the bottom of the hill. I decided to practice on the sidewalk  before I took to the road.

I put my good leg on the pedal and tried to push, but I couldn't. You know that old expression, "It is like riding a bike," meaning it is something you can't forget?

I forgot. I've ridden my bike thousands and thousands of miles in the past forty years, and I couldn't ride on the sidewalk at the bottom of my hill. I couldn't get the coordination of both legs going. Mainly, I was afraid to take my post-op leg and put it on a pedal. I wasn't so much afraid of riding, but stopping. I would have to put my feet down. On the stationary bike, I stop pedaling and get off the bike. Here, I have to get off the bike while I am no longer pedaling. I was flummoxed. This was sad. Now I know how my mother with Alzheimer's must feel all of the time.

As I tried to get on the bike, it would roll backwards. I realized I was pointing uphill, and that was why I couldn't get going. This sidewalk was uphill, but it looked flat compared to my super steep street perpendicular to it. There is a name for this type of street: a false flat. I decided to walk my bike past three houses, and then ride downhill. It worked. I let the bike roll downhill, and kind of pedaled. As soon as I would move, I would practice stopping. It worked. I did this a few more times, and then walked my bike down to the Burke.

My heart was racing from nerves, not exertion. I was sweating from wearing my jacket, but I was going too slow to have real sweat. I rode to the south end of the UW campus, and then turned around. I didn't want to go too far--I needed to make it home.

Views at the end of my ride.

My ride was 1.9 miles each way, which is less than I usually ride at the Y or at the university gym. I couldn't read while riding, but I felt so much more alive. I get bored riding the stationary bike unless I have a good book to read, yet I never get bored riding my bike in the real world. I don't see how kids love playing video games inside in a dark basement when the real world is so much more awake. Are you playing Wii golf? How about going to a real golfing range and hitting a bucket of balls instead?

I can't remember the last time I rode my bike. Unlike many before and afters that pertain to accidents and traumas, this one I couldn't place. At the time, I had no idea it would be my last ride for months.
When I got to south campus, it had changed considerably since the last time I rode there. The light rail was open, and the new bike lanes to the station were there.

Depending on the weather (and how early I wake up), I'll probably ride to physical therapy tomorrow.