Bicyclists don’t bear illness well. We tolerate it pretty well in others, actually it supports our general theory that we are doing things right and everyone else isn’t. Even when other cyclists get sick, we usually ascribe that to some fatal flaw, overtraining or eating the wrong gu, etc. We are smug in the confidence that we never get sick because we subscribe to the principles of a Healthy Lifestyle. Until we do.
I had been thinking recently that I hadn’t got sick in a Really Long Time. That was of course because of my Healthy Lifestyle. Every time someone at work was out sick, I could barely control feelings of smug superiority that their illness was rooted in their imperfect lifestyle. So smug was I that didn’t bother with flu shots. At work, they had given them out for free for a number of years, and I always passed. This year I actually considered it, but since I Never Get Sick, I figured, why bother? I had my annual doctor visit end of September, and in passing he offered me one, but again I declined.
So, when I finally got sick, it came as quite a surprise. I had worked at home on Tuesday and was feeling a bit under the weather, but determined to go into the office on Wednesday since it looked like the rest of the week would be bad weather-wise. Got up Wednesday AM, stumbled into the bathroom, and while brushing my teeth realized that I needed to become horizontal pretty soon or it would be done for me. Finished the rest of the brushing sitting on the toilet, and decided to lunge for the bed, which wasn’t very far and seemed an achievable goal. Mrs. D was awakened by a thump to find I had executed a perfect FDGB right next to the bed. Needless to say, I did not go to work that day. So I spent the next three days working at home, venturing out only to clear the two plus feet of snow that arrived meanwhile. Mrs. D, ever sympathetic, was quick to point out that she had had a flu shot and felt fine.
Towards the end of the week, I was getting pretty bored. It had been ten days since I had been on a bike. Being bored was a good sign, since before that I had been too sick to be bored and spending all day watching reruns of the Twilight Zone seemed like a reasonable goal. So I announced to Mrs. D. I was thinking of going for a bike ride. I was prepared for resistance ranging from “are you out of your mind?” to threatening to chain my leg to the bed with a kryptonite lock. Instead she allowed as how that might not be a bad idea, might clear out the lungs. It would either make me feel a lot better, or a lot worse. I concluded that she was so tired of me whining, muddling about and being generally pathetic that it was either let me go out for a bike ride or put me out on an ice floe. The funny thing about all this is that these are exactly the arguments I had used on her whenever she was incapacitated in one way or another. Dr. Donohue’s cure for all known ills was to go on a bike ride.
So, with Mrs. D.’s blessing, I went downstairs to don my bike apparel. First, I reached into the accessories box for the wind briefs. These clever Lycra undies had a wind-impermeable nylon layer sewed strategically across the front. On top, we had polypro, wool, Lycra, and more, layer upon layer until I made the Michelin man look anorexic. Encased the whole thing in my windbreaker like a giant sausage and I was ready to brave the elements. Pumped up the tires on my winter steed when I realized I had just replaced the right shifters and the cable was too short. This would not have been a problem unless I wanted to turn left, and I suppose with a strategically designed route that could have been avoided. But I took the coward’s way out and decided to ride another bike. For a moment I pondered if this was perhaps a Sign From God and I should abort the mission. But no, I selected the Cannondale, pumped its tires up, and again I was ready to go. By this time, I had probably enough aerobic exercise as I needed pumping tires, but off I went. I was first pleased to see the roads were actually in pretty good condition. I had waited out both snowstorms, and the Christmas rainstorm that got rid of a lot of it. Next, I was happy to see that the legs still worked. It actually didn’t feel that much different that a presickness bike ride, except for some additional wheezing. When I got home, the wheezing accelerated and I was beginning to think that this hadn’t been such a great idea after all. But after a shower, lot of liquids, and more acetaminophen, I really didn’t feel any worse, had expectorated a bunch of nasty stuff, and put an additional 13 miles on my annual mileage. Wa-hoo!
Please send corrections, additions, comments and praise to