Just recently I found myself laying on my back in a hospital bed; knocked out by a general anesthetic and feeling completely helpless. The farthest thing on my mind was riding my bike. Driving along the same route I bicycle commute to work, I just could not imagine how I could ride that distance almost every day. Coupled with the fact that my departure from the house is usually before six o'clock in the morning.
Yet last night working in the garage, a little visual tableau helped me to consider the task. Maybe it was seeing all my bikes hanging up in the garage. There are 15 bikes in there. 11 of them mine. The rest belong to my daughter, her boyfriend and my son. There are 2 more behind the woodshed, one against the outside garage wall and one more at work.
Perhaps the little nudge I felt was my body telling me that I'm healing and it will soon be time to climb back into the saddle and ride. As an experiment, I ventured across the High Level Bridge to attend a meeting at the university. Thick pea gravel from the melted snow and ice littered the riding surface making my first ride since the surgery rather dicey.