i will never let anyone tell me it’s easy to get back on that bicycle. i mean, hell, it’s a tricycle, meant to provide more stability, and i cannot even pedal it in a straight line. i was so excited to go pick her up from the shop where i purchased her. she’s beautiful and champagne with lovely lines and little tattoos that speak to my art-loving soul. mister jones even cleaned out the back of his big dodge pickup, secured her in place with soft ropes and sweet little fisherman quality knots. once home, we lowered her out of the truck, and i settled myself onto the sleek black leather brooks saddle, placed my boots on the pedals, and. yup, that’s it. and. i cannot pedal her in a straight line. my right leg doesn’t match my left one. my knees don’t articulate the same. something happened to my body within the past two years. i sat there, and tried to go. mister jones hollered at me “well, PEDAL!” i couldn’t. i what-the-fuck couldn’t. i got off and hung my coyote head and wept. i said [apparently not loud enough for anyone to hear] it‘s not my body….it‘s THIS, pointing at my head. mister jones came over to where i was standing and asked me what i said. i repeated myself. it‘s not my body….it‘s THIS. and again, i pointed at my head. i know….i know….i just said something happened to my body within the past two years. but when i point at my head, i’m saying i‘ve got to work on adapting and getting stronger and moving forward.
so that’s where it is right now, folks. i’ve got a shiny beautiful new tricycle and two bum legs. you’d better believe, i’ll be pushing hard in my next few physiotherapy appointments, making some changes, working my boots off.