Monday did not start off well.
I got off work at 6 am, came home and did my chores then went to bed to get a couple hours of sleep before hitting the bike trail to get some much needed training in.
I haven't been sleeping well lately, usually no more than two hours and then I wake up bright eyed and ready to get things done. I thought that's what would Monday morning, I hoped that's what would happen...that's not what happened.
When my alarm went off at 10:30 I let out an audible groan and fought the urge to throw my clock across the room. I was tired after a long night at work and had been sleeping really well, so well that I think it's possible that I might have even slept a full eight hours if that damn alarm clock hadn't gone off.
I stumbled out of bed, got dressed and headed downstairs to to put the bike rack on my car, a task I've probably done half a dozen times with no problem, but yesterday I looked at it and had no idea how to put it on. Perhaps it was because I was so tired, perhaps because I was in a foul mood at the kink in my training plans (I couldn't wake DJ up to watch Bella), or perhaps it's because my memory is going to hell because I'm not exactly young anymore. Whatever the reason it took me about 15 minutes to do a 3 minute task.
Next my bike and Bella's tandem bike had to go on the rack, which meant another fight with rubber straps that didn't want to attach properly...but that's a slapstick story that will have to wait for another day.
Back inside to fill up my three water bottles only to find that all three were missing. How do you lose THREE water bottles!
Bella and I finally made it to the spot we were suppose to meet Elma and off we all went to ride, but I was in a horrible mood and probably not much fun to be around.
Here's what I hadn't counted on. Riding a 5 year old on a tandem bike for 4 miles is a LOT different than the quick trip around the parking lot we took when I bought it. The tandem probably weighs about 50 lbs and Bella weighs close to the same so it was an additional 100 lbs had to pull. Then Bella decided the tandem bike she had LOVED riding only a few weeks before scared her and she started screaming and begging me to stop. So stop I did, consoling my granddaughter and assuring her she wasn't going to fall off. Back on the bike and the screaming started again, this time because her helmet was coming off. I stopped again, checked the helmet and assured her it was just fine. Then Bella decided she wants to walk...absolutely not, I wasn't training to walk I was training for a ride and she was going to get on that bike and let me ride!
For the first two miles I heard a constant, "Mama, SLOW DOWN", but since I was barely going fast enough to keep upright slowing down wasn't really an option. By the time we reached the end of the trail she decided she actually liked riding and wanted to continue, but I had decided it was one of the most stupid ideas I'd ever had and called DJ until he finally woke up, then begged him to come get Bella. Then we were back on the bike for the return trip to the parking lot where we would meet DJ. About a mile into the return trip we hit a hill that didn't seem very steep when we went down it but was taking everything I had in me to get up.
That's when I went to breathing hard from exercising to a full blown asthma attack.
Now everyone with asthma knows the first rule is that you ALWAYS carry your inhaler with you, so I reached into the little bag I keep on my bike for my inhaler...and it wasn't there. Then I remembered that I had taken it out of my bag and put it in my purse...which was safely locked (and well hidden) in my car...over a mile away.
As my weezing got worse I heard Elma yelling at me to pull over and stop, but there was no way I was going to stop...I HAD to get to my inhaler.
I kept peddling and it was getting impossible to breath, the loud weezing breaths grabbing the attention of the walkers as I rode past. I started to feel light headed and a quick glance at my hands showed that the skin under my nails were a deep purple, a sure sign I wasn't getting enough oxygen.
We finally reached the parking lot and my inhaler and although it took 6 puffs (instead of my normal 2) before I was able to breath normally again, the crisis was over.
Bella was sent off with DJ and I was ready to ride some more so off we went.
Elma and I rode another eight miles before calling it a day and as we climbed into our cars we both received emergency news alerts about the bombings at the Boston Marathon.
For several minutes we sat side by side in our cars reading as the event unfolded, horrorified at what was coming across our phones. Through tears we said goodbye, in a hurry to get home and turn on the news.
Sitting in my living room staring at the images coming across my television I realized how petty I had been during our ride.
So what if I was tired?. I knew when I signed up for the Ride to Cure that training would be hard and involve sacrifice, but the first really tough day and I was whining like a spoiled child.
I was ashamed that I lost my temper and snapped at Bella when she didn't want to get back on the bike. Would it have killed me to go back to the car and wait until DJ could come and pick her up?
And not having my inhaler with me was inexcusable. Although my asthma is normally well controlled it's still there waiting on the sidelines and I know from experience to always have an inhaler with me. I've had several severe asthma attacks that have landed me in the hospital, one almost killing me... I KNOW asthma can be deadly yet I put myself and Bella in danger because of my own thoughtlessness.
Now as I watched the horror on the news I couldn't stop thinking about those that were truly suffering, those whose lives had been altered or taken within a span of seconds. I thought about the physical and emotional suffering of the hundreds of people who were injured and their families.
Then I thought about the people who were running in the race, many of them just like me. People who dedicated months, even years, to participate in an event to raise money for a charity that was important to them. People who may now be dead because they wanted to do something good for others...people who at the very least would never realize their dream of hearing bystanders cheer them on as the approached the end of their race or the satisfaction of crossing the finish line and achieving their dream.
It was a hell of a way to learn that I needed to keep things in perspective.
From this day forward I'm going into the Ride to Cure experience with a new perspective. I'm still riding for my daughter, and for your child, and for millions of other people with diabetes I will never meet....but when I cross that finish line in August I'll also be crossing it in honor of all the people who weren't able to cross it in Boston on Monday.
I ride for Brandi...I ride for you...and now, I ride for them.
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