First bike ride back

Monday I saw my orthopedist for my three-month visit. It had been six weeks since I last saw him, and at that time he said he'd probably clear me to ride, after my next visit, 9/22. He had cleared me to sit on a trainer and spin with no resistance, but I never did it. Why? Honestly, probably because I hate indoor trainers. I don't know why, really.

Fear and Redwoods and Big Butt

I tried to go into the Jedediah Smith campground off 101, but it was full, and almost midnight. Then I drove through Crescent City and it was all neon and bright lights and I thought "Where am I going to sleep?" I am not used to sleeping in a van. I pulled off the highway and started driving through a little neighborhood, just following my nose and next thing I see a sign "unmaintained road 15mph" and another sign pointing toward "Stout Grove". And then I was in this magical land of giant redwoods, on a narrow dirt road. It was kismet.

Driving up the forest road, looking for a place to sleep

It was a little spooky bedding down for the night. I had no idea where the road went, but the little van with its lights and its microwave and some leftovers from lunch for a midnight dinner made me feel better. I did lock the doors before I went to bed. Earlier in the drive, I stopped for gas in Cave Junction, OR. That is right near the East Fork of the Illinois River. You can't pump your own gas in Oregon, and to put gas in the Sprinter you have to open the driver door, then open the little gas door that shares the opening on an opposite hinge with the driver door. I had to pay inside, so I left the attendant pumping gas to go pay. Only when I was in the station did I realize that all the people walking around and going in and out of the station looked like meth zombies. I mean, there was one kid sitting out front, playing with a skateboard that might not have been a meth zombie yet, but I'm serious; they all had that look; stringy, greasy hair, sores all over their faces and hands, big, staring eyes, corrugated skin with no subcutaneous fat. This was about 10:30PM or 11:00PM. I'm imagining some meth lady in my van, rummaging through my backpack. I'm thinking that the whole town is probably in the grip of a massive meth kick, and there's no real people left. That was the last town before Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. So after cruising up this dark, back road in the Redwoods, I'm not thinking about nature and squirrels and redwoods and peace and starry skies, I'm thinking about backwoods meth zombies and pot farmers and predators. And I'm still on the DL, recovering from a broken hip. I have a *bad* limp, and I couldn't run if my life depended on it. I've always felt confident in sketchy situations because I'm big and tough and I know that not being afraid is the best way to not be afraid, and that being, or appearing fearless is effective. But if it came down to it, I'm not tough or capable of defending myself right now. All these thoughts were going through my head as I winked on the LED lights in the back of the van, and microwaved my leftovers. In the end it was a peaceful night. 

First time sleeping in the van

About 7AM, with the weak light filtering through the tree cover still looking like dawn, three cars full of young people went by, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The last one had a corpulent young guy sitting on the passenger window opening, his upper body entirely out of the vehicle, his blonde, curly head blinking and smiling into the wind at 15mph like some dog. His butt was half out of his pants. It wasn't Bigfoot, but Big Butt I had to fear.

View out my door, the next morning

I ate some more leftovers, wished I had coffee, and headed out. I will add a grinder, aeropress, some coffee beans and cups to the Sprinter before the next trip! The redwoods were beautiful in the morning.

Nine weeks

My family has put up with a grumpy, depressed, non-bike-riding father and husband this summer. Thank you, family.

The summer has come and gone with me, sitting it out on the sidelines, broken. Social media has only made me feel more sorry for myself and depressed; all those sunny pictures of people smiling on bike vacations and bike rides made me feel bad. There were glimmers of good times tho; a day on the beach in Bolinas, a long weekend in Downieville, co-workers visiting and working at my house when I couldn't go to work.

As of yesterday, I am officially back to full weight-bearing on my left leg, and can walk without crutches if I want to. It hurts, and I limp, but I can do it.

Rover and Lola have been with me every step of the way. Maybe next time I'll dance for you. Donna told me that I should be learning the Soulja Boy for our trip to Baja in November. I'm on it.

For my next trick, I'm going to try riding a bike on a stationary trainer. (It's on the OK list also, just no bike riding outside yet.)