I'm sure there's a great joke somewhere in this about a cyclist who can't cycle (even if it's only temporarily) but at this moment I can't think of one. Not even a totally lame one that only garners a groan from the crowd.
I've been sick. Every year Florence goes into a collective tizzy about the current influenza for the year. People talk about it like it's an invading army and in truth it probably is. Whole classrooms are empty because all the children are home with something. Social engagements are cancelled because of it. Friends sound hesitant to talk to you on the phone, like germs have discovered the secret to traveling via satellite.
When they talk about it you can hear the quotation marks. It's an "influenza." To call it a bug or the crud lessens the terror factor for them, I guess. I really have no idea what it is I have, but Leif and I have decided it's probably a light dose of the dreaded influenza and the lingering cough is due to spending my first January in a city noted for closing isolated city streets when pollution levels rise, rather than deal with pollution on a more city wide scale.
Since I can't seem to control my breathing right now, riding has been out of the question. It really sucks, because I was finding a rhythm and enjoying the experience so very much. I haven't ridden in a week and a half. I feel, I don't know, anxious somehow. Like I should be doing something but I'm not. I hate the idea of starting over from the beginning, but it will probably come down to that.
And what does a cyclist do when she can't cycle? She arranges and rearranges her cycling clothes, checks her bike for dirt, pumps the brakes (not that I'd know if they were working right, or how to fix them if they weren't) and spends endless minutes that add up to probably hours a day looking out the window assuring anyone who'll listen that the weather isn't right for riding anyway. I must be driving Leif crazy, because I think I'm a little nuts right now. Seriously....I'm talking about the weather stopping me from riding while he's headed out the door for a ride. It's pathetic. I really need to get out of the house, you know, farther than the grocery store.
So the first halfway decent day that comes along I'll be out on my bike. Due to my preoccupation with riding and the endless rearrangement of clothing, just like a fireman, I can jump into my clothes as soon as I spy sunlight and be downstairs before you can say "This woman is crazy."