A summery bike ride along the rail trail with my sunny bunny.
Sure, it's 91 degrees and climbing, with air thick as a sponge, but I feel the slightest breeze. My Cat-Eye is suddenly not working, so I have no idea how fast (or slowly) I'm pedalling nor how many miles we've done. And it's OK.
I don't need to check the mileage every twenty seconds. I don't need to maintain any certain speed for today's ride. I will simply enjoy soaring down the hills, the steady climbs of the uphills, the trees with their branches steepled above our heads.
My twelve-year old zips by me, calling out, "On your left!" A huge smile crosses his face. He rides like an adult, like his dad, with this smooth, athletic confidence. His bike is nearly the size of mine, with thin road/racing tires. He has black biking shorts, a bright red shirt, gloves and a helmet. He's my little pro.
You wouldn't know to look at him that he developed a new tic last night--in his throat. And it's going off as we ride, distracting him. But no, he's not up for turning back yet. He's happy and strong.
We ride by the bullfrog's Rubberband Band camp, but the frogs are all sleeping to evade the heat. We ride by Snake Territory but fortunately for me, the snakes are slithering in the water, avoiding the sizzling blacktop of the path. We ride over the Potato Chip Path, nicknamed by my son because the road there is choppy and broken.
We approach a stopsign and my son darts ahead, saying that he will see if the road is clear so that I don't have to stop for once. On his signal, I fly down the hill, cross the next street and pummel up the next hill. Nice to not be the lookout always.
I love bicycling--can't you tell?! I especially love sharing this sport with my son. I treasure each moment, knowing that it can be suddenly taken from me, knowing that there are other teenagers out there who are not doing well after a period of relief.
My son is in a good place and I'm so grateful and appreciative...and apprehensive. How long will it last? Will it change as puberty kicks in more? What effect will hormones have upon his Lyme and autoimmune neuropsychiatric disorder?
I've had a lot to think about this week. I've got Lyme and I'm not sure what that means for me yet. Perhaps I've had it for a very long time and passed it onto my children. I grew up playing in Connecticut woods. Either way, my body is strong enough to be fighting it. But there is something that kinda terrifies me about it. What if it is slowly preying upon my mind? First, fatigue. Then, anxiety. What next? I've seen what these diseases do to my son.
I know how much the doctors cost. And how little we have in the bank. But, there are days when it's good to not even think about all that. To not know how fast or slowly I'm riding, to not look at the mileage. There are days when it's great to just sit back and enjoy the ride. All sickness aside, my son is one of my best buds. I told him that I would like him even if he weren't my son. But I'm glad he's mine and I can hug him as much as I want.
As we ride, we chat about ways to get his little sister more interested in bicycle riding so that she can join us in our adventures. I promise to take my son for a cold drink after the ride. Little things. Happy things.
For today, I'm not too tired to bike ride. I absorb the green of the leaves, the joy of my boy. I forget nearly everything else for a few moments. It's all good.