Bike Ride

It was strangely quiet as I rode my bike home from work today.

Even as I rode down a large residential street, all I could hear was the cicadas, the hum of my bike chain, and my own slightly-labored breathing. It is not terribly hot out, but it is humid, and the bright afternoon sun filtering through the trees adds to my exhaustion.

I turn onto Park Avenue and begin to coast down what my friend Dave and I have affectionately dubbed "Killer Hill." That nickname, however, is only for the uphill ride. The downhill ride is exhilarating. I lean slightly over the handlebars as gravity relieves my aching leg muscles, and the wind dries the sweat covering every inch of my skin. However, I must push my tired legs into service once more at the bottom of the hill. I am exhausted, and I am only halfway home.

I have climbed that hill a couple of times before. The first time, I had to dismount and walk the bike up the hill halfway up. The 2nd time, I stopped halfway again, but managed to make it up the rest of the hill still on my bike. I had to stop at the top, because I had lost control of my asthma. I had stood there, wheezing, struggling to catch my breath while my concerned best friend looked on. My mental control took over once more shortly after that, and I was able to finish the ride.

The memories of that hill were what caused me to alter my planned route this morning, a move that ended up adding 2 or 3 miles to my journey to work. That extra distance pushed my energy and muscle reserves past what they were used to, something that I was feeling more and more as I made my way back home.

I stop at a small park right next to the Cedar River to rest. As I sit down in the shade of a pavilion, it is no longer strangely quiet. There are children playing on the baseball field across the park, and there are a lot more runners and cyclists passing on the trail I had just turned off of. My heart is the loudest sound I hear, beating so hard I could feel it pulsing in my ears. I turn inwards once again, to let my mind regain full control of my heart beat and my breathing. Though my body has nearly reached its limit, my mind is running at full speed.  I compose this narrative. I think of some ideas for art. I think of my boyfriend, waiting for me to reach home. Thoughts flit through my head quickly, never staying long. After resting for a little while, I continue on my way.

By the time I return home, I have pushed myself pretty far past my limit. The last mile was the hardest; mostly uphill, and no shade from the merciless sun. Dehydrated, exhausted, and lightheaded, I finally rolled through the lawn to my front door, and inside to relief, at last.

Its amazing how far I've come, really. Last summer, I couldn't even walk outside the house without feeling the urgent press of my asthma, always threatening to consume me. I lived in such fear of it that I didn't even ride my bike, that summer. This year, somehow, I have managed to not only control my asthma, I'm doing better than I have been in quite a long time. I will never be able to ride tens of miles effortlessly, nor will I ever be a super-athlete that races and competes. The hill I've climbed so far still looks pretty impressive when I turn and look back on it.

"Killer Hill" doesn't seem so bad after all.

Shogun, Cycling, and a Three Week Countdown

I finished a book I've been reading for the past couple weeks or so.

I have a strange way of getting through books. Usually, I catch a few pages in the bathroom or while I'm cooking  supper. Sometimes I'll read for a little while before going to sleep (when my brain is awake but my body is spent.) A few times I'll actually read it at my computer desk. I'm a very quick reader, but sporadic bursts usually lead to the book taking me much longer than normal.

Especially when its a 1152 page monster like Shogun.

I've wanted to read this book for quite awhile now. I've been interested in Japanese history for a little while, and of course this novel was a draw to me. I would keep putting it in the back of my mind, though, so several years passed between when I heard about it and when I finally found a copy of it at a thrift store.

The book is good. It helped that, even though the names are changed, I knew which characters corresponded to which historical figure, and the actual history behind the story. And aside from minor details, the history was  portrayed quite accurately.

I won't blather on about it. I'm glad I read it.

As for the rest of my life, well, a few things to say, I suppose. Yesterday (June 12th) was my boyfriend's birthday. I would have really liked to spend it with him in person, but of course that was impossible. I did spend the whole day talking to him, minus the time I was at work. I am waiting to give his present to him until he gets here. I hope he likes it. It was a wonderful day, though, and I'm really glad I got to spend the time I did with him.

Work is going about as I expect it to. Some coworker stupidity, some customer stupidity, some personal stupidity (I'm not immune!). All part of a job, I suppose. I was in a bit more pain than usual Saturday and Sunday. Not sure if its the change in weather, or if I'm pushing myself too hard. Hopefully tomorrow will involve a little less pain. I've been wearing a back brace and it seems to help a bit. At least it keeps me from slouching when I get really tired. The stress level, for the most part, is a lot lower than my previous job, and I've found that stress is one of the biggest factors in my back pain. Its insane how mental this condition is for me. I will even start to hurt if I talk or think about it too long. I guess its good that I've been training my mind to handle it as well as my body.

The cooler weather lately has make bike riding easier for me. My asthma tends to hate humid weather. Even so, cycling requires a type of meditative focus for me. I always have to control my breathing, be attentive to how hard I am pushing my muscles in my back and legs, and make sure that I pace myself so that I can make it back home without keeling over. All while balancing a wobbly two-wheeled machine and avoiding the asshole suburban traffic. Most of this is quite universal to all people that ride their bikes, but a bit more so for me. I consider it good practice, of many things. And the only real exercise I'm able to do.

Well, I have blathered on for a bit longer than I intended, and my mind is beginning to match my worn-out body. I'll wear it out with one more bit of optimisim.

Things to look forward to: Charel in town in 3 weeks, Chicago trip, sushi, Guinness, a bike ride, and D'nA photo shoots. Wheeeee!