mimitabby
11-03-2007, 05:10 AM
http://petermckay.blogspot.com/2007/11/not-typical-commute-home.html
My husband just left on a 130 mile bike ride, but before he left he forwarded this to me.
*********************************************
I am sitting up in my hospital bed with my MacBook Pro. Harborview has the UW WiFi network. I have access by virtue of being an alumnus. Anita brought my laptop to me tonight to make feel "normal.”
Last night, I left Bellevue at 7pm on my bicycle under clear skies and crisp cold temperature. It was one of those wonderful commutes home. While it was dark, I had my usual compliment of front and rear lights.
It was cold, but I stayed warm under my long-sleeve wool t-shirt, bib shorts, tights, wool socks, wool glove liners, bicycle gloves and long-sleeve yellow jersey. Every pedal stroke/revolution of the crank brought warmth into my core. I was very happy.
I enjoy riding during autumn: the colors, the scents, the “rice crispy” crackle of orange and red maple leaves underneath my spinning wheels.
I am nearly home. A mile from home, I hit a pot-hole and puncture my front tire. I replace the tube, but have difficulty getting the tire bead to hold to the rim. On the third try, it holds. I mount my bicycle, ride another two blocks and a car passes to my left. I hear gun-like shots and immediately feel pain in my chest. I ride a short distance and stop. I hunch over my handlebars while I “absorb” the pain. Every inhalation brings a sharp pain to my left lung, as if I had a broken rib. I look at my “clean” yellow jersey. As there are no marks, I suppose that the assailants shot me with an air gun or some sort of blunt projectile.
My husband just left on a 130 mile bike ride, but before he left he forwarded this to me.
*********************************************
I am sitting up in my hospital bed with my MacBook Pro. Harborview has the UW WiFi network. I have access by virtue of being an alumnus. Anita brought my laptop to me tonight to make feel "normal.”
Last night, I left Bellevue at 7pm on my bicycle under clear skies and crisp cold temperature. It was one of those wonderful commutes home. While it was dark, I had my usual compliment of front and rear lights.
It was cold, but I stayed warm under my long-sleeve wool t-shirt, bib shorts, tights, wool socks, wool glove liners, bicycle gloves and long-sleeve yellow jersey. Every pedal stroke/revolution of the crank brought warmth into my core. I was very happy.
I enjoy riding during autumn: the colors, the scents, the “rice crispy” crackle of orange and red maple leaves underneath my spinning wheels.
I am nearly home. A mile from home, I hit a pot-hole and puncture my front tire. I replace the tube, but have difficulty getting the tire bead to hold to the rim. On the third try, it holds. I mount my bicycle, ride another two blocks and a car passes to my left. I hear gun-like shots and immediately feel pain in my chest. I ride a short distance and stop. I hunch over my handlebars while I “absorb” the pain. Every inhalation brings a sharp pain to my left lung, as if I had a broken rib. I look at my “clean” yellow jersey. As there are no marks, I suppose that the assailants shot me with an air gun or some sort of blunt projectile.