First, the ride. It was the 45-mile ride from the outskirts of Frederick, MD to Thurmont, MD and back to Frederick. The scenery was green and rolling and the trip certainly presented its challenges. Saturday was not hot like it has been this week here in DC. While we did hydrate, hydrate, hydrate, staying hydrated was not much problem. One downhill got me and Nitro going about 25 mph at one point. I told the guy in the bike store that and he told me not to do that ever again. Come to the bottom of that hill and any little nuance in the road could take my steering handles out of my hand, I was told. I will need to control my "need for speed" I guess. If Spencer is reading this, he will burst out laughing. He knows that I don't ride fast and never have.
Which brings me to the beautiful person part. None of this would be possible without Spencer Young. I met him on a bike ride 8 years ago and we have been together ever since. For almost 2 years, we have been married. When I did not know what to do with the undeniable fact that I had myotonic dystrophy, he (I believe instinctively) took me to a bike shop to check out a tandem bike. He wanted us to ride again and when I was too afraid to sit on the back of that tandem ("If I break something, it will probably never heal up, Spencer!"), we came home and he went out in our backyard. He was so sad that he cried. I didn't find out about that until later.
Going into that bike shop, though, got my bike juices flowing just a bit. He doesn't know this, but I took my bike (a regular one) out in our neighborhood, tried to ride it, couldn't hold my head up high enough, couldn't work the hand brakes, and finally ran it into the wall in our back alley. I was laying on the ground on my side, wondering if I was in one piece. I got up and I was mad. I wanted to rip this myotonic dystrophy toxic RNA crap right out of me, throw it in the street, ride over top of it, back up, and then let it have it again.
What a concept. It was about a year before I discovered trikes. After looking at them on line and talking to the guy at the bike shop, I asked Spencer to go with me to see one on a Sunday afternoon. I think he immediately knew what I had in mind and he was totally for it without anything being said. Understand that I cannot lift a trike. I cannot put one in our truck. It takes me 20 minutes of struggling to get a trike on its side and out the basement door. If it gets a flat (and of course it has 3 tires so the odds of getting a flat are 1/3 greater that with a bike), Spencer has to play a major role working the tools to fix it. He fully realized all of this right from the start and, still, he was totally for it.
As we rode together through the Maryland countryside last Sunday, I was certain that I was going to ride the entire 45 miles. I was certain I was going to ride all 45 miles. Spencer rode ahead and I met him at prearranged points and I was sure that I would get to where he was. I let it rip on that hill last Sunday and hit 25 mph. If I had wiped out and broken something that would not heal up, Spencer would be by me no matter what. Knowing that makes it possible for me to ride. I love him for it.
But I think I will try to keep it under 25 on the down hills.
No comments:
Post a Comment