When My Intentions are Greater than My Ability.

31, 2009 by pamflan

Yesterday I didn’t have an appointment at the gym and wished to find some other way to exercise. After breakfast and the usual straightening up I was prepared to head out on my bike to go around Stoney Creek Metro Park. It was a good thing I had the whole day to myself because the first thing I did was check my emails, which lead to finishing the rough draft on a story for writers club. So sometime in the early afternoon I headed out.
With SP one of the hardest parts of biking is getting on and off. I have a boys bike and staying steady and swinging that leg over can be an interesting experience. I have a walkout basement, which means I go downstairs and put the bike out with all the stuff I may need for the ride, lock up, go back upstairs, make a final trip to the bathroom, and go out the front and down and around for the bike. Once I have the bike I’m pretty good and stable. Getting to it looks interesting. It’s as if that hill gets steeper each year. Anyways, out in front I wheeled the bike onto the lawn. I figured that if I fell, I’d most likely just get a bruise when landing on the grass. I gripped the brakes, tilted the bike, done! So far so good.
To get into the park I have two choices, one is crossing a major road, 26 mile, which will lead right into the park and on to hilly dirt trails. My second choice is to go to the southern part of my ‘hood’ and take the paved easement which leads into the park. That trail is up hill nearly all the way but I have better luck granny gearing it on pavement than on sand and gravel. So I ended up walking it to the top of the highest point. Bummer! I had been able to get up there just fine in the past, but have to admit that it’s been a few years. I suppose that my issues with balance have put me off biking in the park. Well, I chugged some Propel and continued into the park, gearing up and down and loving every moment of it. The feeling I get with the freedom of movement is hard to describe it’s as if I have wings. It’s like when it used to be when I’d walk without a second thought or break into a run.
I felt I was doing well. I only wished to stop in a special place. Before I got there I passed the northern beach and saw a pathway out of the park on the other side of the road. That would take me to the cemetery where my Mom and Dad are. Another day. I continued along, feeling the wind on my arms, a few bugs hitting my face, then the twitching of my right leg. Actually it’s more of a bounce, like when you put your foot up on your toe and find that spot where you leg will bounce. Well, some people do it, after this sort of exercise my legs do it on there own. I just have to prepare for my foot to leave the pedal as if someone tapped my knee to check my reflexes. After a few more hills, tremors and a good swift reflex kick, I came to the area where I wanted to stop.
There’s a bridge that crosses a babble brook, that is as long as we’ve had enough rain. It was babbling. I stopped and leaned against the rail and could smell the creosote, see leaves being pushed about the rocks, and hear the buzz of insects and the song of birds I hadn’t heard in some time. This place is special to me because it makes me think of my dad. He’s never been there because when they move out this way we were dealing with his Alzheimer’s. However, the area is so much like the place where we went to, as kids, to watch him fly his u-control airplanes. It was off of Outer Drive near the Rouge River. I’m back there each time I stop and look and listen. If I were to hear the sound of a model plane I’d get a lump in my throat.
I left my visit with the past and finished my adventure. Once home I road down to the back and walked as best I could up the hill to the front of the house. I waved to the mail man as I leaned to and fro like a drunken sailor. Getting downstairs was a trip, not literally, but it was interesting. I put everything away and then had the brilliant idea to clean the bathrooms before taking my shower, which would be followed by making dinner and finishing my paper for the writing club. My legs ached and were uncooperative, dinner was minimal, and I was told I looked tired. Well, beats being told ya look tired when you feel great.
Well, after I cleaned up dinner I plopped, literally, in front of the p.c. to make corrections. I then realized that my butt hurt, but good and I smiled. It was hard but it was worth it. I came home from W.C. all smiles. It’s a great group and another type of theory. Good medicine.