Biking Post Surgery

This happened 1 1/2 yrs ago right after my abdominal hysterectomy.

The girl on the other side of the road was sobbing. I got off my bike and crossed over.
“Are you ok?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I ran out of gas,” she sobbed, “and I don’t have my credit card or anything. It’s at home.” She pointed toward the new student apartments.
“No problem,” I comforted her. “I can take care of it.”

I was a knight in shining (reflective) armor on my noble (metal) steed rescuing a damsel in distress. I bought her a little tank of gas, less than $5 total, and walked with her up Stadium Blvd toward her car. She started to panic when she saw a cop stop by her car. Maybe she was afraid they’d tow it before she got up the hill. She started to run.

“No problem,” I repeated. “Tell you what, I can make it faster up the hill on my bike. I’ll go on up and tell him you’re coming. It’ll be ok.”
She stopped running and I rode hard, standing in the pedals, up one of the steeper hills in town. I explained the situation to the cop and we waited for her.

It was only as I rode off toward the lab that I remembered I’d had major surgery 15 days before and I’d meant to take it easy, since I wasn’t even supposed to be riding my bike yet. Going all out uphill was not taking it easy.