Lesson from My Bike: Fighting the Aging Process Is Not a Good Look for Me

            A couple of times on my road to middle age and beyond, I decided to accept the inevitable and age gracefully. It wasn’t a good look for me. My body ballooned; the wrinkles increased exponentially. So I went back to fighting. I’m not saying fighting is working all that well, either, but at least I’m trying. Trying anything that doesn’t hurt too much, doesn’t cost too much, and won’t leave me looking like Joan Rivers. And in that spirit of adventure—or desperation, call it what you will—I took up bicycling. The I’m-doing-this-for-my-health kind of biking, not the buy-a-$10,000-bike-and-dress-head-to-toe-in-spandex kind.

            Yesterday morning, I donned my helmet—definitely NOT a good look for me, but I’m willing to make some concessions for safety’s sake—and set off with Bill on a new route. Edmond is currently working hard to become bicycle-friendly, but this particular route is not quite there yet. Part of it involves navigating narrow sidewalks and busy streets in order to reach a beautiful hiking/biking trail south of town. I was VERY cautious along the treacherous stretch and reached the trail intact. 

            You guessed it. Just when I thought the sailing was smooth, I took a tumble. I wasn’t being careless or dare-devilish. An innocent—and courteous, I might add— detour around two walkers resulted in my front tire becoming wedged between the grass and asphalt. Down I came, and, of course, on the asphalt side, not the grass side. 

            As a result, I have bruises that resemble ripe plums and strawberry abrasions on my calf and elbow. Those boo-boos joined with the chigger bites I acquired on a “healthy” hike the day before. The bites are the size and color of a cherry tomato. My body has become a metaphorical fruit salad, another not-so-good look for me. In the middle of summer, I’m wearing long pants and long sleeves when I venture out. I would stay home, but I have to go to CVS for antibiotic ointment and anti-itch cream.

            I know what you’re thinking, but before you even suggest it, let me make this categorically clear: I’m NOT getting one of those adult tricycles. That’s not a good look for me, either.




I thought these boo-boos would impress grandson Brooks...

   



but he was more concerned with what happened to my bike.