I was dying to get on my bike.
Not actually dying, but falling into a deep depression by not doing the main thing that keeps me from doing so. I've been trying to do other things to keep me from thinking about the fact that I can't ride to no avail. I've starting learning a few new songs on the guitar, but nothing comes close to making me happy like being on two wheels. I even tried to rent a movie, but I suck at that.
Once upon a time...
Anyway, I decided to take my doctor's advice and ride my bike when I felt ready to do so. I wasn't sure if I was really ready, but I had to for my sanity. Little Miss Sunshine and I decided to do a date night with a short ride up to the local pizza spot for some food and beer.
Wow. It was nice to pedal and feel the wind on my face. It was a beautiful evening. It was nice to get out. It was...
I could feel every little bump on my ribs, but the real problem was my fitness. After two weeks of doing nothing but sitting at a desk and on the couch, I was so out of shape that I had trouble getting up the hill out of my neighborhood. The little lady dropped me a couple of times, and had to ride really slow in order for me to be able to keep up. I didn't imagine that such a short ride would be so difficult.
How short, you ask?
We left the house and rode a mile and a half to the store. I went inside for a little bit, then we rode a half mile to the pizza spot. We sat there for a while (eating pizza and drinking a few beers) and it was time to ride another mile and a half home. It was a grand total of three and a half miles with lots of breaks. When we got back home, I was exhausted and pretty much passed out (and proceeded to sleep for over ten hours.)
I felt like I'd ridden for hours and put in tons of miles. I didn't understand it. I expected to lose some fitness while I recovered, but this was ridiculous. Three and a half miles and I was spent. Oh yeah, my ribs still hurt.
This recovery shit is gonna suck.
Hang in there.