On my Bike, Week 17 in the Time of Coronavirus
Each one of us have been impacted by the Coronavirus in a personal way. Some have been ill. Many have been in quarantine. Too many have lost their jobs and income, some of our loved ones have died. And, the weight of the pandemic continues. Friends have been divided based on the level of protection we have chosen. Plans have been cancelled. Supply chains are interrupted. And we have all made appropriate adjustments centered on what is right for us under these circumstances.
I am riding my bicycle more than I have in past years. I like it because once I pass the trafficked streets it’s easy to ride the slow lane in the park. And, as with every activity, I wear my mask, wishing everyone would wear there’s when in public. This is a reflection of the rumble of fear right below the surface. I am as afraid to infect others as I am of contracting a life-threatening illness. As an extra precaution, I ride at times when the park is apt to be less populated. So far, so good.
My bicycle is a low-standing, folding bike. I like the truncated height because my feet can easily reach the ground. A throwback to shaky bike riding during the long summers peddling to The Haddontowne Swim Club. I keep my bicycle in my office, located on the ground floor, to avoid schlepping it up and down the stairs of our apartment building. It’s nice when I can create a simple solution. Stashing my bike in the office also gets me out more. Given these times, if it’s easy, it’s more apt to get done.
Humidity was high this weekend. I don’t mind that so much. It’s pleasant to feel a light breeze cruising down the hills. Tracing the topography of Central Park, as well as the streets on the Upper Eastside, is a unique experience I encounter during my rides. It’s physical and mental. And a bit more challenging while wearing my mask. I even tried a cycling mask, which was hot and constricting, making it harder to ride. So, I returned to my office for the light cotton style that allows for an easier, though somewhat restrictive, air flow.
I am both challenged and contented on these rides. For one, though a cliché, the short journey on my bike is a metaphor for my ability to face difficulties and experience joy. I have to harness the energy to get up a hill. Whether I go slowly or forge ahead, I can feel my muscles in motion. My body is supporting me in moving through space. My mind is telling me I can do it. My conviction assures me I will do it. I am grateful that I am at an age that I can trust this thinking. I didn’t have that ability twenty years ago. And, I understand that taking on the big and small hills builds mental and physical strength so that I can face them and others like them again.
Conversely, I can enjoy the flat roads, the ease of cycling at a pace that suits me. I can enjoy the light breezes of summer as I turn the pedals. Also, I get to know the streets that are open to me. When I’m short on time, or just want a different ride, I make two rights to get to East End Avenue. It’s partially closed to traffic, making it a great option. Cycling on East End is convenient and stress-free. Before the pandemic, I had no idea that I live on the top of a gentle slope. I never really saw the hilly street as anything but quiet. It’s a lovely way to get to know the city’s surfaces. Enjoying old pleasures now is reminiscent of childhood, when every adventure was new again.
- Purposelessly take a break. Rather than push through, stop, meditate, or take a breath, and slow things down a beat. It’s personally affirmational.
- Send a card or a letter snail-mail to someone who has been on your mind.
- Bring fresh herb plants into your home. They smell great, and you can always clip them to flavor your meals and drinks. If you already have an indoor or outdoor herb garden, perhaps adding another fragrant herb will round out the robust fragrances.
- Change up something in your routine(s). For instance, walk a different direction to get a different view. Or, if you always brush your teeth after your shower, brush them before. It will feel odd to do something slightly differently, but it changes how we see things, and will allow for a new perspective.
- Smile under your mask. It’s a mood changer.