Back on the Road Again...

After too long of a hiatus, I finally got back on my bicycle yesterday.  No, really, you don't want to know how long it's been.  Seriously.  I found divorce papers on my bike.  "Neglect and abandonment."

I wish I could say that the time off the bike has been because of the rotator cuff injury I've been dealing with.  Yup, I'd really like to use that as an excuse, but I can't.  The doctor told me it was okay to ride my bike.  But I didn't.  Until yesterday.

I'm kind of surprised I even remembered how to throw my leg over the top tube.  But I did it.  And, there's still nothing like the sound of clipping in.  It's even better when you hear about 500 cyclists clip in at the start of a good ride, but just hearing that familiar sound come from my pedals and I knew that all was forgiven.  My bike and I were friends again!

Oh, the sights and sounds.  Sometimes even the smells.  But yesterday was a great day to ease back into it.  I decided that I was only going to ride between 5 and 8 miles so that I didn't overdo it on my first day.  I rode for a little over 6 and a half miles.  OK, it was 6.6 miles, but who's counting?

I started out on my traditional loop on the boulevard and then made the turn to head up to El Volcan for a while.  I figured I'd just go until I got tired and then turn around, knowing that most of the way back would be downhill.  I never had to dodge a dog, pig, or a cow.  I never even had to dodge a person or a taxi.  In fact, the only obstacle I faced was a 'water hazard'.  Unfortunately, when they are working on the street here and there's water on the road, you never know if it's a water line or sewer line.

Several people waved or said good morning as I rode by.  And I only got one "Hey, Baby".  But then, in only 6.6 miles what do you expect?

Time on the bike is always prayer time for me ~~ not just prayer for safety ~~ but I use the time to pray for others.  That's what I was doing when I ended up passing a funeral procession going the opposite direction.  It brought tears to my eyes because it was the funeral of someone I knew, the father of one of my former students.  He had been murdered just 36 hours earlier.  My final mile home was a tearful one as I prayed for young Jorgito and his family.