Pedal Another Mile

Bicycling, death, life after death.


No, not the new bike - me. I'm sitting on the curb of a gas station writing this post on my phone. I am 12.5 miles into my ride, all into the wind. It's damp and cloudy too. That's ok though.

What's not ok is that the ping pongs have been strong in my head today. Very strong, and very bad. And when I instruct my brain to turn off and murder my legs, my legs say "nope - you're on your own today".

I got a flood of memories of those last few weeks of Billy Jo's life, especially the last one, that came with such force that it was impossible to close the hatch to prevent more flooding. It was like a snowball rolling down a mountain.

At least four of these twelve miles have been ridden with tears mixing with the sweat, talking out loud to her. Thankfully it's early and no one can laugh and point at the crazy guy.

It has not been fun. I try to think of a happy time and ten seconds later I'm remembering her breathing patterns at the end of her life. It's a fucking nightmare and I'm awake, and worse, I can't just roll over and try and forget- I'm riding a bicycle. On a road. With cars.

So that's my story as I eat my egg white and ham flatbread subway sandwich. The only decision I have to make now is to say "fuck it" and head back to the truck, or keep riding away from it, hoping things get better today, and knowing every additional mile away is another one I have to do back...

So, how's everyone else's morning going? I hope better than mine.