On the bike

For as long as I can remember I have loved riding my bike. I can still recall in vivid detail the moment that my training wheels came off for the first time in the nice flat driveway of my gradparent's house. My bike meant fun, transportation, and freedom.
It got serious about age 13 when I started doing long distance rides with the local American Youth Hostels group (now Columbus Outdoor Pursuits). I would pore over Ohio county maps, looking for what might be interesting routes.

In short, since that time, getting out into the countryside on my bike has always been important to me not only physically, but emotionally, spiritually and psychologically as well. Any of you who knew the situation with me and my ex-husband know that I would never have survived the years 1998-2004 were it not for my bicycle...taking me to the roads that called to me to ponder, think and pray.

More recently, my husband took up cycling the year before we got married (2006). He has become a firm addict/afficionado. We love watching bike racing on TV, especially the Tour de France.In early 2008 we bought a Burley Rumba tandem. The way riding a randem is an analogy for marriage is a topic for another piece. Suffice it to say for now, we LOVE riding the tandem.

We can actually hear one another better on the tandem than when we are riding our single bikes side by side. Maybe he likes it because he can request a back-scratch any time he feels like it. Best of all, we can share the beauty of the countryside together: the gold to brown change of the soybeans as they approach harvest, the corn tassles, the freshly turned fields, an amazing variety of cloud formations and sunsets. We also have a game called "Roadkill Identification", but I'll omit those details here.

After thinking "Am I going to die soon?", "Will I ever be able to ride (a bicycle) again?" was my second concern after the doctors told me my left lung needed to be removed. There I was, the healthiest person they had ever seen with lung cancer. A non-smoker, no health issues other than some pretty impressive allergies....

For weeks after surgery the pain was considerable. Now, 12 weeks out, breathing is still an issue-- as is yawning and sighing....those things are not satisfying with only one lung. I'm feeling somewhat stronger and not quite as depressed by the limitations imposed by my physical changes.

I have prayed and prayed about riding again. A week or so ago, David and I went out on the tandem for a 3 mile ride. I was encouraged. Tonight, I prayed. The weather was a cool upper 60s, a light wind from the SW. I got my bright red Cannondale R600
down from where it hung from the garage ceiling. I felt excitement and dismay at the same time. Could I ride? Could I be satisfied with going 7 mph if need be, just to keep going?

Pre-ride checks done. Helmet, gloves, sunglasses on. Trip meter zeroed out. Water bottle iced and full. Inhaler and cell phone in back pocket. Driver's license and keys in handlebar bag. I walked the bike to the end of our gravel driveway and set her gently on the street.

Right leg over, clipped in. Deep breath...push off and up the street I went. Find the right gear. Easy spin up the long gentle incline that is Walnut Street. Not feeling any more winded than usual...so far so good.

As I went farther toward the edge of town, I could feel the breathing become much harder. The cough that has hounded me for months joined the party. I coughed and coughed the entire ride, inhaler not withstanding. When it would be bad, I'd slow down to barely more than a crawl, practically doing a track stand.

I constantly evaluated my breathing and exertion, bearing the cough in mind...and shifted gears accordingly. Once out of town, I was ecstatic that I had made the effort. Early fall in our part of central Ohio is lovely. Two minutes away from the house, I was in farmland. Most of the soybeans were a warm gold color...the last days before they go to brown. I visited with a group of 4 or 5 German Shorthaired Pointers (like our Duke) who live along the route. Repeatedly, I would slow down to a crawl to catch my breath....so I could go on...and go on I did. I stopped when traffic dictated, but otherwise really kept moving, albeit at a snail's pace.

This was not a ride about speed. It was a ride about "Can I even do this?". Yes, I can. I will not be able to ride like I did before, but so what? I can imagine other riders thinking, "What's up with that gal who's all decked out for riding, with the hot bike who's such a slow poke? Dag!" I don't care..yes I do. The prideful part of me wants to have a jersey that says on the back: "I only have one lung--but I'm riding!"

I don't know what the CT scheduled for September 20 will show. If the Tarceva isn't working and I have to go on an aggressive chemo cocktail, that will tear me back down again. If it's working, then I continue the path I'm on and continue to pursue the bike. My cough is a bit worse today...I challenged my respiratory system.

I was out there. I did it. I can do it again and each time will get better.