Shortly before I wound up in the hospital with a swollen left calf, I was bike shopping. I had my eye on a pink beach cruiser; the kind of bike that is the adult version of a child’s bike. Nothing fancy, just a pretty pink bike that I could ride in my neighborhood. I used to ride my bike for pleasure, the exercise and toned legs were a bonus. I didn’t ride exceptionally fast or far, but I rode, regularly.
I stopped riding when I was pregnant, eventually got rid of my bike, and then decided that I wanted to start riding again. I wasn’t sure when I would, life was full between teaching and parenting, but I wanted to. I thought having the bike in my possession would “guilt me” into riding it, and I would make the time to ride.
I found the bike I wanted, was comparing prices, and was almost ready to purchase. Then, my leg betrayed me.
Since then, my legs have weakened. I can’t walk as far, or for as long, as I used to. I now think someone knew I would have leg problems. Something stopped me from buying that bike. If that bike was sitting in my home now, I know I would look at it with frustration and anger. I really should feel relieved that I didn’t waste my money buying a bike I wouldn’t be able to ride. Instead, I’m saddened. Does that mean I won’t ride again?
Maybe. But maybe isn’t definitely “no.” So in the meanwhile, I know that if I become well enough, I will most certainly be purchasing a pretty pink beach cruiser for myself. I will most definitely ride it on a regular basis.
And if not, then I just won’t ride a bike. There are worse things after all.