Monday, August 13, 2012

The Wonder of Bicycles

My Grandfather was a keen cyclist. When he got older he was seen around town several times a day with his bicycle with a portable radio on the handlebars and another portable radio on the back carrier, and inevitably they were on two different radio stations.
For a long time I never really understood why you'd bother getting out on the bike. However, as part of my recover two years ago I bought one - nothing fancy, just a touring bike with a basket and carrier. I cycled for a half hour per day for ages, treading the same paths I had tried to walk when I was going through chemo. The difference when I got stronger though was that I put a child's seat on the back and took my (then) two year old on it all the time. Then, as now, I found it therapeutic. I do a 3 or 4 mile journey on back roads which is quiet - horses, sheep the whole rural thing. The quiet. I never noticed the quiet before I got my bike. But then I realise now I never needed the quiet before I got sick (or thought I didn't). It is a similar to the quiet I get when I run but different in that it is more gentle.

Of course the (now) four year old is in a different place so I don't always get the quiet. I now get "Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!" or "We always stop for sweets Dad", while at the same time getting my shirt lifted and getting a slap on the back. Of course I usually do stop, simply because it guarantees a quiet journey. But again, I see this as another huge positive that came out of my being sick. I have spent so much time with him on this bike in the last two years since I was sick, time I never would have had otherwise, and time I did not get with my older two children (as I was always too busy working or studying). Strange how something so positive can come from something so negative.

This evening we brought our 8 year old out on her bike. She's the one with attitude. She said things like "Can you please stop talking Dad because I want to sing to myself and you're distracting me" and "I've asked it before and I'll ask it again, how could you have married this lunatic (i.e. my wife)?". Think I'll be struggling to regain the quiet for a while yet.

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