Turns out the new jacket I bought him, a Mountain Hardware something or other, has turned him into a winter rider. I added a fleece neck gaiter as well, to the gift. Why the heck did I not think of this sooner?? Every year when the temp would hit 55, he'd ditch me; opting for football, beer, and sweatpants. Thus, he is the yo yo fitness partner. He's a BIG BIG BIG guy, so he can pack on 40 pounds and make it look like maybe 10.
He's the safest guy one could want to bike with. Therefore I feel a bit vulnerable when riding alone, with out him. He once said, "yeah, why worry about these hyenas when you are running with the lion?" His glory days included high school football championships followed by college rugby championships. He's a beast, and makes me look like a petite little thing. That is until we get up to you and you realize I'm normal sized and the dude is a mountain torturing a cheap hybrid for the sheer pleasure of hearing it scream and creak with every turn of the pedals.
He always teases me because I prefer to ride a bit more nuanced bike. Or, in other words, I do believe I've gotten my thousand bucks out of this 6 year old cyclo-cross bike I bought before they became the "it" thing. It weighs an honest 25 pounds with bags and commuter pedals, and is aluminium with a carbon fork. It's a solid ride. I think I may have finally done one of the rims wrong, but after at least 10,000 miles I can't say they didn't last. Plus, we regularly ride a rutted dirt double track with all kinds of bad things just lying in wait.
So this is what I am looking at: I find out this week if my right hip needs to be cleaned up; and next week I find out if the mesh monster needs to be sliced out, or maybe just needs a bit of a trim. In the meantime I am back to practicing yoga 4 or more times a week, riding at least 3 times, and walking a few miles every day or two with the pups. My right hip hurts, my left hip (which got cleaned up in October) hurts in a different way, and my lower abdomen & pelvic area hurt really bad. Like discomfort is my closet companion these days.
I don't know where I have found the drive to try and regain my fitness. One of the women I know, when I flat out laid down the details of my physical existence, said she couldn't believe I was "just walking around like nothing is wrong." She'd be "curled up in a ball sobbing." Well, shit, you can't do that every day now? Right? If you did, who'd do the laundry and walk the dogs? Who'd clean up dog poop, feed the cats, and punch the time clock? No one, if I don't.
I knew of a woman, a friend of a friend, who worked her damn job and lived alone while she was DYING of cancer. She worked every day until three weeks before she died. I don't want to die now. I want to live. But she, is me, and that's where I found the drive. Necessity, the mother of invention they say. The mother of must-do's, and have-to-haves. My mother, Necessity.
I leave you with this, a recent painting by myself. Proof that I think about paddling, even when I am not on the water: Mattawoman to Leesylvania
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