![I Won’t Let Old Age Rob Me of My Joy I Won’t Let Old Age Rob Me of My Joy](https://phyllisunterschuetz.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/I-wont-let-old-age-rob-me.webp)
11 Feb I Won’t Let Old Age Rob Me of My Joy
But I will make a few concessions. ~ published in Crow’s Feet
There’s something special about a bike ride. It’s the wind in your face, the feeling of wild freedom, the sweet ache in your thighs the next morning. It’s the hum of your tires on a long, flat bike path as you whiz past the walkers, ringing your little bell and calling out, “On your left!” It’s the closest thing to flying without actually leaving the ground.
The Beach Ride
One year we spent the winter at an RV park in Melbourne Beach, Florida. Right outside our door was a paved path that ran for miles along the Atlantic Ocean - the perfect way to spend a day! I bought a used bicycle for $30, slathered my pale self with sunscreen, and set out on a balmy afternoon for a long ride.
Which way to go? Maybe left toward Cape Canaveral where I might see a rocket launch. But I was drawn in the other direction, so I turned right and headed south.It seemed effortless. I picked up speed and flew down the path, barely pedaling. Apparently, I’m fitter than I realized, I thought. Look at me go!! Mile after mile I rode, pleased and surprised at my endurance.
The Reality Check
I finally decided I’d gone far enough. I pulled over to the side, got a quick drink of water, turned my bike around, and started back to the RV park. I could barely move. I shifted into the lowest gear but managed to go only a few feet. It felt like I was trying to ride through a wall of cotton. That’s when the gravity of my situation hit me. I wasn’t actually very fit, and I did not have superhuman endurance. I’d had the wind at my back, and now I had the wind in my face for real.
After 15 minutes of fruitless effort, I called my husband to come to get me and my bike with his truck.
The Last Ride
During the pandemic, I figured what better way than biking to get exercise? You’re automatically socially distanced on a bike. Plus there’s no need to mask up if you’re moving faster than the virus. So on a gorgeous afternoon in late spring of 2020, I donned my helmet and rode out of my garage and down the driveway. Just to be safe, I’d decided to avoid the park and ride around my little subdivision.
The problem was the inclines. Well, that was one problem. The other problem was my aging body. I got halfway up a hill that was considerably steeper than it looked, and I ran out of steam. When I stopped, I lost my balance and fell over, landing on my butt in the street with the front wheel of my bike in my lap.
You know what they say about horseback riding - if you fall off, you have to get right back up on that horse so you don’t lose your confidence. It probably applies to bike riding as well, but I didn’t heed the advice. I walked my bicycle up the hill and into the garage, where it sat, unridden and unloved until I gave it to my daughter when we moved a year ago.
Yes, I lost my confidence. Even though I longed to ride again, I felt too insecure to try. If only there were tricycles for adults, I thought.
The Obvious Solution
But wait! Of course, there are tricycles for adults! A quick search on Google revealed three-wheelers of every possible size and configuration. How come I didn’t know this already?
I shared my discovery with my family members, who pooled their resources and bought me a tricycle for my 74th birthday yesterday. It arrives next week. It has seven speeds, a seat with a backrest, and two large baskets for carrying a picnic lunch. And I can fold it to fit in my trunk. A 15-minute drive will take me to the Silver Comet Trail, a wide, paved, flat bike path with frequent toilets and benches. It stretches 60 miles from just outside Atlanta to the Georgia-Alabama border, though I probably won’t be riding quite that far.
I’ll still feel like I’m flying, just a little more slowly than before. I’ll ring my bell and call out a heads-up to pedestrians as I pass. I will once again be wild and free.
Getting old may require some adjustments, and someday I may have to graduate from a three-wheeled bike to a four-wheeled chair. But until then, I ride.
Photo by Brad West on Unsplash
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