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[personal profile] judifilksign
Since Sept. 19.

My darling husband was sleeping, preparing for his night work at the toy store, restocking and getting ready for Black Friday.  I have been nursing a cold and sore throat, possibly strep.  (A girl sick at school all week was diagnosed with it on Friday.  Since I've had strep 34 times in my life, I canceled most of this weekend so I wouldn't spread the ick if I have caught it.)

Sparkle came to me with the bike helmets, and asked to go on a bike ride to the towers.  I told her I didn't think I could make it to the towers, but we could go on a short ride.

It was blustery, and lots of golden leaves swirled around us as we rode, both around the wheels of our bike, and in little dust devils in the air around us.  Very pretty, but blinding.

I discovered that two months of not biking make going uphill with Sparkle on board nigh impossible.  I panted and wheezed and stood up on the pedals and got dizzy.  My breaths were so loud and regular, I sounded like the chuff of a train trying to start.

"You can DO it," said Sparkle, over and over again.  "You're a big, strong girl.  I know you can do it.  You can do it for me.  That's right, PUSH!"

(Pant, wheeze, cough, choke, wobble)

"I hear you puff, Momma."  This was followed by Sparkle making similar sounds as we went up a slight uphill.

As we passed the beagle close to the first road, I noted that its tail was wagging mightily.  Well, its tail, and its bottom, and its whole body with a big doggy grin, tongue lolling.  When it realized I was looking at it, the wiggles redoubled in effort, and it gallumphed back and forth at the end of its rope, all happy wiggles.  I'm not sure if he recognized us specifically, or if it's been a long time since bikers have used the path because the weather's been iffy.  This got me to the first road.

I wobbled to a stop, and leaned the bike on the fence rail.  I found myself on the ground, without really knowing how I'd gotten there, staring up at leaves blowing overhead.  Sparkle was scolding me, telling me that I was not allowed to lie down in the middle of the road; it was not safe.  She had gotten our water, and held it out to me.  I rolled so I was lying along the verge of the path instead of across it, feeling dizzy and sick.  I could feel my heart through every vein in my body, one big throb at a time.  It didn't seem fast, just HARD.

I sipped three times, and so did Sparkle, then she put the bottle away.  She tugged at my arm to get up, and I staggered to my feet to notice an oil truck from the company that delivers to us stopped just after the rail road tracks.  The driver was looking at us, clearly wondering if I was having a medical crisis.  I waved at him, and he waved back, but did not continue.  I got on the bike, and Sparkle pedaled us downhill, and I saw the truck pacing us.  I moved my legs like I was pedaling, and he sped up and away.  I stopped pedaling and let the gentle downhill and Sparkle carry us along, and concentrated on breathing steadily, which was harder than I thought it would be.

I started wondering why I hadn't gotten help from the trucker when the little hill up to the street through our townlet came up.  Sparkle and I ran straight through a blown drift of leaves, and her laughter at the crackle and hiss was sweet through my discomfort.  Across the railroad tracks, around to the street, up the hill, and over the railroad tracks and to the left DOWNhill, and around the corner to my driveway, where I nearly crashed into my car before remembering what brakes were.

I stopped my daughter from giving my car "a drink."  She'd taken off the gas cap, and was poised to pour the rest of our water bottle down.  I told her cars only drank gas, and she seemed okay with that.  I hope she hasn't given it drinks before now...

I staggered down the slope to our house, holding onto the railing.  Sparkle has been burbling happily since our ride, so I am happy she is happy, but I had to lie down for 40 minutes before I stopped feeling hollow and trembling.  I think that being sick and riding bikes don't mix so well.
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judifilksign

December 2011

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