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I did a series of social posts today because – as usual – I had trouble sleeping last night and I occupied my mind by planning my outfit.
Medicine Day clothing is tricky, because it has to be super functional in a number of key situations (vein access, rest room usage, etc). But I don’t like repeating outfits two months in a row, and I don’t like looking a hot mess.
Mostly because when you go to the hospital to get an infusion for an autoimmune disease, you’re treated like you’re a hot mess, have no brain and possibly can’t speak (among other, de-humanizing things). So I like to look sharp, so that I am taken seriously. It’s my hope, at least.
Anyway. Thought I’d share them here. Because A. My outfit was in fact, on point. And B. It’s good info for future use.
Final pic is my workout. The longer I’m on Tysabri (at the start of my eighth year currently) the more tired I get on infusion days. And working out actually helps clear my brain. But getting motivated to work out is a challenge. I managed to do it today. I hit 1k rides on the Peloton.
Not so bad.
Xoxo, g
Day 60
Women’s History Month.
A five year anniversary.
The return to community.
It was a big day, today. I usually wonder all day what I’m going to write about and then —somehow— get divine inspiration right before bed (usually while meditating… go figure). Today, I have had so many thoughts in my head about what I want to say all day that I’m paralyzed in a different way — one of indecision.
**
A month dedicated to the history of women. A history woefully lacking in substantial texts, recognition and dignity. I was raised by a fierce, smart, strong woman who instilled in me a healthy dose of feminism and the drive for equality. I didn’t think there was far to go when I was helping collate newsletters in the 1980s as a child. Now, as a bonafide adult (usually), I have learned – painfully – how very far we still have to go. And how far apart women exist in the struggle for equality … white women and black women and brown women and trans women and poor women ….. The fight for equality looks different for all of us. And we should work harder to make it look the same. To make it no longer exist for everyone across the board.
**
Five years ago, recently returned from a trip to Italy during which I did infinitely more walking than I thought I could, I began my love affair with stationary bicycles. I’d heard (during a work seminar) about the theory of 66 days vs. 21 days to form a habit. I decided — perhaps somewhat flippantly — that I was going to ride our stationary Schwinn bike (currently serving as a glorified clothes hanger in our spare room) for sixty-six days and see where it led me. And here I am now, devoted (deeply) to my Peloton. Riding miles every day. Sixty-six days worked.
**
After five months away, I returned to yoga today. And as my forehead hit the mat in child’s pose to begin practice, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. For nearly three years I spent multiple mornings a week in that studio with women who have become my friends, my community. To be back, to be surrounded by these humans who share my love of Baptiste yoga, was stunningly powerful. And even though we all practiced six feet apart wearing masks and there was no cold, sweet-smelling towel to reward us at the end of class, it was still a holy experience to share those seventy-five minutes with people who have become my people.
Today was a good day. A powerful day. The beginning of the rest of 2021.
Xoxo, g
Day 39
Never miss a Monday workout.
That’s been my motto for a few years. It makes me feel as though the week begins on the right foot, even if it ends up derailing later down the line.
Today, the week derailed as soon as I finished my workouts (which were tough to get through in the first place). I don’t know if I’m sick or if it’s just because i took a fall yesterday, but I feel pretty awful today.
At least I got that Monday workout in. Haha!
Xox, g
Day 27
I’m a very competitive person.
Sometimes this plays in my favor. Other times … it does not.
Recently I’ve become preoccupied with challenges on the Peloton and in doing so, have so fully exhausted myself that I had to take a time out. Recognizing that need was difficult; actually doing it was nearly impossible. I will push myself past all my limits in a fruitless attempt to prove that I can do anything I want. But the truth is, if I do anything I want, there will be consequences, a balancing out. My body can’t sustain hours of cardio and strength workouts every day indefinitely. It just isn’t equipped to do that. And even if it was, it means I can’t do anything else with any degree of efficiency (& this, I have learned clearly over the past few weeks).
So today, the third day that I struggled to get out of bed, I decided to rest. And I spent the day on the couch watching Marvel movies.
Recently, John + I decided to purchase all the Spider-Man movies in a bundle pack, because even though we own the two newest (of the MCU) we didn’t have either Tobey Maguire or Andrew Garfield’s movies. And we like binge-watching so this seemed as good a thing to binge as anything, considering that characters from both those franchises are rumored to be featured in the newest MCU installment (tentatively scheduled for release in December of this year).
We weren’t always MCU nuts, but once we went down the rabbit hole, we really committed. So this newest purchase wasn’t outside the realm of things we would do.
Having now watched all seven movies (recently) I can understand why the MCU might have picked the villains they picked to re-introduce. And seeing the different iterations of Peter Parker is fascinating in the progression of the character. Could Tom Holland’s Spidey be as good as he is had Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield not preceded him? I’m not sure. I like how each Spidey is his own unique interpretation of the character. But there are also so many similarities in the interpretations that are kind of fascinating.
To begin, I loved the Tobey Maguire movies when they came out. Revisiting them was nostalgic, but it also highlighted to me how weak he was as an actor, and certain compromises that seem to be made in Spidey to accommodate for that. Andrew Garfield, a much stronger actor, made Spidey funnier, more nuanced, and altogether more Marvel (for lack of a better descriptive word). The second “Amazing Spider-Man” (which suffered a little from the same disease as the third Tobey Maguire Spidey … aka, too many stories happening to do them all justice) was actually pretty powerful in its portrayal of Electro, the love story of Gwen and Peter and Gwen’s ultimate demise. My heart still stopped watching her fall and that final moment when Peter’s web caught her but she was too close to the ground. Oof. I loved the humanity of Sally Field’s Aunt May (and Martin Sheen’s Uncle Ben) and all in all, I much preferred those two movies to the first three.
And that brings us to Tom Holland and the behemoth that is MCU.
Do I think Spider-Man: Homecoming is the best movie ever? No. It’s not even the best Spidey movie (I reserve that for Far From Home). But it so significantly improves upon all that came before it that it’s hard to compare. To begin, the ages of the main characters are much more realistic than 27-year-old Tobey Maguire playing a high schooler. Tom Holland is a delightful blend of funny, insecure, intelligent and awkward that makes his portrayal of Spider-Man utterly enjoyable. And the supporting cast —- Flash and Aunt May (who doesn’t love Marisa Tomei?!?) and Ned and MJ …. all brilliant. Jake Gyllenhall’s Mysterio is amazing — a crazy blend of mentor and villain and mastermind and insecure megalomaniac. And Michael Keaton as Vulture in Homecoming? Loved it. Loved it even more re-watching it. They just elevated the game to a whole new level.
Anyway. That’s what I was up to today. That, and discussing with John the pitfalls of my Peloton obsession. Oh well. I guess I just have to keep learning the same lessons over and over until I get it. Life, right?
Xoxo, g
change
My life has changed dramatically since leaving my job last January.
I mean, dramatically.
At first, I felt lost. As though I had no direction and even worse, didn’t even know how to find one. Then I felt resentful. At the circumstances under which I left my job. At my disease. At the world for doing me so dirty. And then came defiance. I will conquer. I will succeed. I will create and live and be unstoppable.
But MS nipped that one pretty quickly in the bud.
Who am I? What do I want to do with my life? What am I currently doing with my life? … I chewed on these questions for a long time. I felt like I wasn’t contributing to our household, that I was the weak link. That this invisible illness of mine was debilitating, but not debilitating *enough*.
But the real question that I kept coming back to was ~ who was I before and why was I that girl? Did I like that girl? Was I proud of her? Did she pursue dreams relentlessly and with passion? Um…. hmmm.
I spent a lot of time not knowing myself and not really having a clear direction (other than stay alive and pay the bills). I spent over twenty years in the hospitality/restaurant industry because I sort of landed there. And I did love it. And I was passionate about it. I was so proud of my last company and all it accomplished while I was there. I look at it now and it’s nearly unrecognizable — it just blew up. Which is fabulous. But I’m not sad that I’m no longer part of it. I wasn’t *that* passionate.
I went to college for musical theatre. And I absolutely adore musical theatre. In fact, I was medium okay at performing, too. But I wasn’t passionate enough to risk it all. To sleep on couches and starve myself and do everything you need to do to make it in the industry. I started waiting tables instead. (See above for where that lead).
So you can imagine that these past eighteen months have been interesting for me. Challenging, frustrating, desperate. Freeing.
I mean, seriously. What do I care about?
Last year was a blur. I quit and then John had surgery. Then he started a new job. And then September happened and September to December are always a blur of football and holidays. This year started well – we hosted our first Rabbie Burns supper and I was hired by Aflac to sell insurance. I got my license. I did my training. I f*cking hated it. I had some major issues with how business was done. I lasted a month. It wasn’t my finest moment in time.
And then the husband told me to go back to yoga.
He’d said it in the past but he was pretty adamant this time. My body was hurting. I was riding my bike every day but I was getting stiffer. The relief that I’d experienced before this for all the joyous physical MS symptoms was fading. I was mentally trapped. And then Dr. Markowitz suggested in April that I needed to figure out my anxiety because my MS wasn’t being triggered by anything physical. Physically, he said, I was doing really well.
Well, isn’t that a b*tch.
Timing is a crazy thing. I received an email blast from a new yoga studio offering a new student special – $21 for 21 days. I called my friend (recently on short term disability for a new MS drug therapy) and we began our 21 days. She didn’t end up staying at the studio after those first few weeks. But I did. I had found something that was missing. I still don’t know if I can put my finger on what it is. But I found it. And it led to some amazing things.
First, it led me to the chiropractor. I did something to my left shoulder (always a painful nuisance … thank you high school swim team). I arrived at my chiro slightly trepidatious but over my first three months fell madly in love with their philosophies, their clean living examples (homemade bug spray! homemade sunscreen! detox diets!)and their long term goal of helping me be the healthiest version of myself I can be.
I discovered essential oils. With a healthy dose of skepticism I ordered a diffuser and all kinds of oils I didn’t even understand. I didn’t even know how to use them for the first few weeks. I just occasionally googled something and then went about my day. And then, all of sudden, things started to make sense.
I also fully committed to using more natural products. I mean, your skin is your largest organ. It makes sense that the things you put on it affect your body as a whole. But I’m a skincare snob. I mean, a big one. Finding new products was not something I undertook lightly.
But Instagram came to my rescue (as it so often does … sort of, haha!). I found Real Simple Soaps out of Hilton Head Island South Carolina and I fell so ridiculously in love with her products that I even got my mother on the natural products train. RSS makes products using goat milk, kefir and probiotics with all natural ingredients. And the stuff works better than anything I’ve ever used. This amazing discovery led me to try Kopari deodorant (all natural coconut). Once the door to vegan, non-GMO, cruelty-free, natural products was open, I not only discovered some amazing things (all Kopari products that I’ve tried are amazing and Thrive Causmetics are THE SH*T) but I felt really, really happy.
I also took Dr. M’s advice and went to therapy. That has been super interesting. Always rewarding, sometimes painful. Usually thought-provoking.
I think that what I’ve learned more clearly than anything I expected to learn was the empowering and positive force of self care. It sounds super (I mean, super duper) pretentious, but it isn’t. I believe in it passionately. I believe in getting sweaty every day and the cleansing power of physically moving your body. I believe in eating healthy, whole foods (but still uber delicious and fun and inventive and non-restrictive). I believe in drinking a ton of water. I mean, a ton. (I drink about 96 ounces a day. I know. It’s a lot). I believe in prioritizing sleep in order to more fully enjoy your awake hours.
I have found that taking care of myself is so much more than getting my Tysabri infusion every twenty-eight days. And in turn, it helps keep my MS under control. It’s insanely powerful.
So I might not have a clear direction yet. But I’m starting to get a good sense of what I believe in, what I’m passionate about and how I want to spend my time. I’m learning to love and accept myself, flaws and all. I’m learning to forgive myself and my disease for bad days.
I’m also attempting to learn how to have curly hair. It’ll be an adventure.
sometimes
Sometimes it’s virtually impossible to be positive.
Despite this blog and my obsession with Instagram ([at]simplygwyn if you are curious) I’m a pretty private person. I don’t relish in other people’s misfortune (or fortune) and I don’t always like to share my own. Have I had tough times? Oh, yes. Have I had amazing triumphs? Yes, it could be said. Do I tend to share those specifics either here or via my social media identity? Usually not.
Today has been a brutal day. For many reasons. MS, obviously. I finally slept through the night but I woke up exhausted and without motivation to do anything. Feeling that way is frustrating, sometimes as though I’m watching myself through a thick pane of glass, all the details blurry and no way to communicate to myself. It’s hard for others to understand — there’s nothing physical that signals my distress, my struggles. I look fine, so I should be fine. I discriminate against myself using that logic all the time.
When you start a day feeling listless and then one thing after another pummels you — it’s very hard to rally. I rode my bike — something that helps sometimes, but doesn’t always. I did one of my longest rides ever — 32.1 miles in 90 minutes. Yay! Go me …. I think.
John got home close to 4pm and brought in the mail. Yup, I’d been such a slug all day, I hadn’t picked up the mail on Lucy and my afternoon walk. It happens folks, that’s the reality of my life. In the mail was a delightful form letter from our new insurance advising me that after review, my MS medication would not be covered and all future costs would be 100% our responsibility.
Whomp. Whoosh. Air sucked out of my lungs, tears stinging my eyes. And this was at the end of an already brutal day.
I’ve been on five drug therapies for MS. I’ve read all kinds of blogs and posts about controlling MS without drugs. I drink green smoothies religiously. I can be enormously fussy about the food I eat. I work hard every day but I cannot NOT be on medication. Before Tysabri I had Lydia (my cane, for those who weren’t reading my blog in 2014). I could barely walk up stairs. My disease progression was aggressive and scary and bad. And now, here I am. Blue Cross Blue Shield of Michigan has decided that they won’t cover the only medication that has ever worked for me. Somehow, a huge insurance company now controls my life. Literally, my life.
Today, it must be said, has not been a good day.
revisiting an old friend
A few weeks ago, John and I spent the weekend in Mansfield so he could help his dad do some projects around the house. This left me at a loose end, but I was determined to stay as healthy as I could so we got a portable blender and I brought up all my smoothie goods, plus my laptop to google some work outs. We set up our tent and canopy, plus the love seat bench that we got this year with our REI dividends. And when I was finally motivated (aka, ran out of ways to procrastinate longer), I looked up some things on You Tube, and got to getting sweaty. I didn’t hit my move goal though, and that frustrated me. Three days in 2017 I haven’t hit it, and one was because I couldn’t manage to find a good workout. Grr.
I was fairly determined not to let that happen again this past weekend. I still packed up my blender and my laptop. We set up the tent and the canopy (and Lucy, on her long lead). But this time, I decided to pull the trigger and sign up for Beach Body On Demand. Because I’ve never done a workout that I’ve found as challenging yet satisfying, as ‘Insanity‘.
I think maybe I thought that since I’ve been working out regularly that somehow the program would be easier? Um, not really. I mean, some things were ‘less hard’ but let’s be honest here. Those workouts are killer. And now — added bonus? — there are a million different versions of ‘Insanity’. I stuck with the original because I knew it was tough and I hoped it would burn calories. And because I’m a little insane, I did two workouts in a row.
For the past two days, my legs have been so unbelievably stiff and sore, I wondered what in God’s name I’d been thinking. I would never do an Insanity workout again. But, then I decided to stop being a baby, and I fired up the laptop yesterday afternoon. It was a very tough 40 minutes. When I climbed on the bike for a cool down afterward, it felt like a cakewalk. And then, I pulled myself up the stairs, and decided to take a bath with salts, in the hope that it would help my poor legs recover.
It did! I woke up this morning and didn’t feel like my legs were dying. Not only that, but for the first time since I began riding my bike last year, I was enthusiastic about a different kind of work out. I got up, looking forward to my date with Shaun T, and set about my day.
I remember doing Insanity several years ago — before the MS. It’s challenging in different ways now — I have little to no bounce in my legs, so I am working on that. But I am less angry at Shaun T this time around. In fact, I’m not angry at all. He makes me smile. I feel encouraged. I am really enjoying it, and how it’s forcing different muscles to work harder. Working out every day isn’t really anyone’s idea of a good time (well, maybe someone? but I don’t know that person) but I am feeling really glad about my decision to branch out and do different things. I need to work out every day — it keeps me strong, it keeps me focused on being as healthy as I can be. And to be honest, it’s a little bit of a relief not to ride the bike for an hour and fifteen minutes every day. Although, I’m sure I’ll start to miss it eventually.
today’s goals
I definitely woke up much less stiff and sore this morning. But I also had to do a very modified work out yesterday (due to my sore knee).
Hubs and I are headed to his parents this weekend so John can help them do some projects (which involve climbing on the roof, so I’m guessing they are both serious and necessary). I’ve struggled with travel since the whole MS thing, because I am a creature of habit, and those habits involve food (ahem, smoothies). So yesterday, I set about finding a small, portable blender so I can have a smoothie in the morning while we are away from home.
Amazon really dropped the ball. I originally ordered a blender that had a guaranteed delivery date of tomorrow, just to have the tracking information update this morning when I checked shipping. Thanks Amazon, so glad I have a Prime Membership and infinitely more glad that it’s so efficient. Smoke could be seen coming out of my ears and in a rage, I cancelled the order. What good does a blender do me on Monday? No good at all. None.
So, today, my goals include hitting my Move goal (aka burning over 800 calories according to my watch), drinking at least four bottles of water in preparation for meds tomorrow (being hydrated means the nurses can find the veins and saves me additional angst because I really don’t love needles) and finding a portable blender at either Kohls (I’ve googled, it seems they have quite a selection) or BBB (I’d rather hit the jackpot at Kohls – it’s closer to home). I’ve done my meal planning for the day – salad for lunch and veggie noodles with chicken sausage for dinner (I had sushi last night, because Hubs had to go meet a work associate at the last minute and take him to dinner). We also have to pack up the truck for the weekend — tent for camping in the yard, air mattress, blankets etc etc. I’m still trying to figure out what workouts I will do while in Mansfield. But I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Additionally, the paper has begun to accumulate on my desk, so I should probably sift through that before going away for a couple days.
Ah. Life. Always keeping you on your toes. Wishing everyone a great day filled with lots of smart food choices, a healthy sweat and tons of hydration. It’s a humid one in Southeastern PA, so I’m sure the MS will be buzzing! (Literally. It feels like buzzing in my fingers and hands).
every morning
This morning John and I slept in. What that really means is that he gets up with Lucy at 6a so she can have her breakfast and a little walk around the neighborhood to do her duty, and then he comes back to bed. So really, it’s a win for me. I always mean to get up but the beginnings and the ends of days are tough for me. It’s tough for me to get going, and it’s tough for me to stay awake at night.
I thought, since I’m trying to get back to this space a little more, that I’d begin July with a post about how I begin most of my days (barring meds, or MRIs like yesterday, when we get up at 5a and head into the city).
Every morning, I get up and put on my watch. That begins the tracking of my movement for the day. Also, the earlier you start your stand hours, the sooner you hit 12. I check my Nalgene by the bedside – how full it is, etc. I have four Nalgenes, three of which are in constant rotation at the house for my water tracking. One is purple, one pink and the last green. Each is 32 ounces, so based on the idea that a person should drink half their body weight in water ounces, I need to have about 80 ounces of water a day. And more, because I exercise. So I make a mental note of which color bottle I’m starting with, and how many ounces are in it. I try to have three full bottles a day, plus any extra waters at restaurants, or our other water bottles that fit into the Jeep (and actually keep water cold). Having the different colors helps me remember (if it’s a tough brain day) how much I’ve had. I can track by color.
Once I’m vertical, and have allowed my body to have its morning spasm (always enjoyable), I get dressed to work out. My goal is always to ride the bike early, so that the rest of the day is free, but I will confess that that doesn’t happen all the time. I get distracted doing laundry, or cleaning the floors, or reading a magazine. But I now have a whole section of work out clothing in my closet (thank you Fabletics) so I’m usually go to go with clean clothing.
I’m a skincare junkie, so I try to splash my face with some cold water and then do a quick wipe with toner. Then I slap on some lightweight moisturizer with SPF so that when Lucy and I walk around the neighborhood I don’t get sunburned. I also psychotically brush my teeth and use a tongue scraper (sidenote, if you have never used one or don’t even know what it is, let me tell you that it is the best thing for making your mouth feel clean and keeping your breath fresh. I am obsessed with mine). I will confess that the time I spend in the bathroom at the beginning of the day and the end of the day is not a small amount. But … I like taking care of my skin and my teeth.
Next up I take four drops of liquid Vitamin D and B12. I do 8000 IUs of Vitamin D a day and 1000 of B12. Probably a little higher than the average Joe, but I have multiple sclerosis, so it works for me. I also always make my bed and clean up any clothing I might not have put away the night before. Sometimes I’m so blindingly tired when I go to bed I don’t even remember, so despite my OCD tendencies, it isn’t uncommon that my clothes are folded and left out on the bench under my window. Somehow, despite fatigue, I still manage to fold my clothing before bed. Just not put it away.
I also put some foot cream on my right foot, because the nerve endings in that foot are shot, and so I have a build up of dead skin and calluses (super sexy, I know) and my podiatrist prescribes me an ointment that eats away at that stuff. It’s pretty rad.
The best part of my morning is my green smoothie, which I almost always have first thing, before Lucy’s walk, my bike ride, or anything else. I’ve been doing green smoothies for a couple years now, and our basic recipe is pretty delish, but sometimes we switch it up if we have extra fruit (recently we had mango and it was so.yum) or something we want to try. We used to use the NutriBullet, but that burnt out after a couple years so now we use our Vitamix. If you don’t have a Vitamix, consider getting one, because it is glorious. I absolutely love it. I put baby spinach, orange juice, milk, ice cubes, organic peanut butter, a banana, Field of Greens supplement, Matcha, ginger, turmeric and a little cayenne pepper into our smoothie. I used to use coconut oil, but I like the flavor of a nut butter better. You could make it healthier by using nut milk and nut butter, but John and I have tried (to this point unsuccessfully) to make the switch away from cow’s milk and intermittently used different combos of almond butter, cashew butter and others, but because it’s such a routine thing, I buy the easiest stuff to get when I’m trying to get in and out of Wegmans as fast as possible. (That store is NEVER not crowded. Seriously.)
With our smoothies I dole out our vitamins, a Men’s Multi for John, Women’s Multi for me, and a Vitamin C boost. Sometimes we take Airborne (depending on the season and how we are feeling). After that, it’s a walk around the neighborhood with Lucy, which I consider my warm-up, and then some burpees, squats, ab stuff and a bike ride. My goal was 100 miles a week, but I’ve upped it recently to 150 (I was consistently hitting about 135 a week, and figured I needed to increase the challenge).
Anyway, that’s my morning. That’s my little recipe for trying to feel the best I can regardless of how my body and my disease are feeling. I read in one of my health magazines an interesting piece about hitting a workout plateau. And I think I’ve begun to mentally apply it to MS. A lot of times people hit a plateau because they don’t believe they can keep going/push harder/lift heavier/last longer. But mostly, it isn’t about what our muscles are capable of, but what our mind has decided. So sometimes, when I am near tears and feeling utterly beaten and frustrated, I think about that. And I try to focus on succeeding and overcoming. And once I believe I can, it makes it a lot easier to accomplish. So, even when my bones ache, and everything feels heavy and clunky, I make myself get up, strap on my watch, and begin my day putting goodness in my body.
Happy July all! xo
my bike is a very very very nice bike
This morning, I was feeling incredibly motivated. So –despite the habit I’d fallen into the past few weeks– I jumped on my stationary bike before 9am. I started my audible.com book (“The Cruel Sea” for anyone interested … not something you might first consider to be good bike-riding listening, but I’ve been enjoying it very much). I settled in for a long ride.
But … Something was off. I’d noticed it yesterday, but thought it was just my foot slipping on the pedal. This morning, it was different. Very rhythmic. Very disruptive. Around 30 minutes into my ride, I picked up my phone and messaged John. I told him something was wrong — he’d need to look at the left pedal when he got home. I was going to power through my ride.
Only, I wasn’t.
At 32 minutes, the pedal fell off. I scrunched down, I looked at each piece — the fallen off pedal and the mechanism on the bike. Things were wobbling. I sent John a picture. I told him I’d broken the bike.
He was wonderful. He asked for more pictures. He started googling new bikes. Within three hours, we’d checked “Best of” lists and ordered a new stationary bike as well as a trainer to put our outdoor bikes on. I maniacally checked the shipping info.
I have become so used to riding my bike every day, sweating out the sorrows, the woes, the frustrations, the sadness and the fears. Working through problems. That when the pedal fell off, I felt even more adrift than I had when I left my job. I felt terrified. How would I get through the seven days it would take for my new bike to arrive? How would I survive? More importantly, how would I sweat?
I fretted about it all day. While I took Lucy to the vet, went clothing shopping with John, waited for take-out burgers. I tried to calm myself with the knowledge that help was on its way. But it didn’t make me feel better. Smaller bumps than this had disrupted better men. How would I stay focused and motivated with a seven-day gap? I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust my resolve. Thirteen months, and this could be the end. I was despondent.
John and I got home. We put on comfy clothes. I spread out our food booty on a TV tray. Burgers, and french fries and blue cheese dipping sauce with a small cup of root beer. He said he was just going to check out the bike. Minutes ticked by. I paced. I fretted more. I poured two glasses of wine and walked downstairs.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” There was laughter under his words, but ironic laughter, disillusioned laugher. Not funny laughter.
“It can be fixed? But not today?” I guessed.
“Ha!” This time he did laugh. “No. It’s fixed. But we just spent a ton of money replacing it.”
“It’s fixed?” My voice was filled with both delight and the underlying fear that he was lying.
“It’s fixed.” He stood up, his hands on the console. He spoke with finality.
My whole world lightened. I smiled, stupidly, childishly. I positively beamed. He shook his head.
“I can ride it tomorrow?”
“I wish I’d looked at it tomorrow. Because now I have to ride it tonight!” He words were heavy but lined with amusement. He caught my expression. “You can ride it tomorrow.”
We climbed the stairs back to our living room and settled in for burgers and sitcoms. We toasted our glasses, and I thanked him for fixing my bicycle. He smiled sadly.
“I’ve counted on it for thirteen months,” I began, feeling guilty.
“I know. I’m glad it was an easy fix.” He kissed my forehead and took my hand. We curled into the couch. “I just don’t know where I’m going to put the second bike.”
D5 Creation