Day 51-60
Day 51
9.20.23 ● Side Cut ● 20.2 miles
This will not go down as a favorite ride. It was cloudy. Humid, but chilly. It seemed right to ride after a long day of babysitting for me and meetings for Dave. But, as soon as we got on the bike path it seemed that we were not jiving. I was wanting to go fast. Dave was not feeling fast. For some reason Dave’s legs were resisting.
On the rides like this he gets really quiet. I can tell that he hates disappointing me. I can tell that he is mad at the situation. I start questioning him. I should know better, I should just let it unfold and not say anything. I’m not good at that. He says he’s just so tired and then I start wondering, How so? Tired muscle-wise or tired all over tired? Are you short of breath? My goodness, you’re not having chest pains are you?” These questions, better kept to myself, only make him mad.
We ride the rest of the way in silence. Each of us just wanting to get home.
Day 52
9.22.23 ● Fort Wayne, IN ● 20-ish miles
I am remembering this ride from almost 2 years later. I didn’t write about it then and struggle to remember the details. But here’s what I do remember. I was so tired of the same old paths near home. I wanted adventure like we had during the beginning of this project. I had read that there was a bike trail in Fort Wayne, IN and since that is only about 90 minutes from us, I lobbied for a bike ride day trip.. The deciding factor? A Granite City restaurant gift card that has taken up residence in a pencil drawer ever since they closed their Toledo location.
“There’s a Granite City in Fort Wayne”, I said. “Remember those awesome Maple Bacon Flatbreads?”
“Ok, let’s go,” Dave replied, and started to hook the bike rack to the car.
On that day, I learned something new. Putting a bike path name into a GPS is not the best way to find the beginning of a bike path. I wished I would have realized this before we got to Fort Wayne. The GPS gave us the exact midpoint location of the bike path which had nothing to do with parking, access or signage. As soon as we got into town, we were lost. We drove around, we asked pedestrians, we even went into a couple of business to inquire. No one seemed to know what we were talking about. It was not a good start.
Eventually we found access to it and a somewhat convenient parking lot and started riding. We didn’t really know where we were going and weren’t even sure how much path lay ahead. It was hot, we were confused, Dave was irritated and I was trying hard to turn this field trip around. We rode for a bit, but because we had spent so much time trying to find the path, it was now way past lunch time. We rode a bit more before I finally declared defeat. We made our way back to our car and had no trouble locating Granite City with our GPS.
While in the restaurant, a search on my phone led me to find a bike path along the river. Since we needed more miles, and, thanks to that delicious flatbread, we were no longer hangry, we decided to find it. It was a beautiful ride but as the path turned further and further away from crossroads and closer to large open fields Dave became anxious. After his two snapped spokes at home, he started wondering what would happen if a third spoke broke while we were here on this unfamiliar path with no idea how to navigate to a crossroad.
Me, I just wanted to have fun and enjoy this peaceful out of the way path. Looking back, I understand how he let the worry get the best of him. It really would have been quite a situation if we had a breakdown in the midst of this uncharted territory. As soon as we knew we would have our twenty miles total for the day, we turned our bikes around and headed back to the car. Ride 52 - the best part was the flatbread.
Day 53-56
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We are back in familiar territory and it is almost as if I can feel Dave exhale in relief, and interestingly enough, this makes sense.
It makes sense because just the night before, Dave comes home and tells me about a DISC assessment he took during a retreat at work. It is a personality trait tool that I had not heard of. According to this, he is an S which stands for Steady. No surprise there. Something that I read about challenges for S people is Change. Change is a challenge and I see that in my husband. He is steady with a capital S unless he is encountering change and then he is like a fish out of water. That’s how it felt when we were in Fort Wayne and we couldn’t find the path we were looking for and were unfamiliar with everything around us but the Granite City we went to for lunch.
There are some real benefits to having a husband who is steady with a capital S. I never have to worry about, well, pretty much anything. He takes care of all the things that I would truly struggle with if I was flying solo. Taxes, insurance, bills, anything financial. Because of his steadiness, I live the life I am living. I pretty much do what I want, spend what I want, be who I want to be. It is an immeasurable gift.
I sometimes need to be reminded of this. Like when I am filled with sadness about how his feet hurt so much that we are not able to hike in parks or even go for walks in the neighborhood together. I am filled with frustration that this is something that I have no control over. I long for him to keep working to find a solution, but if that solution might involve surgery, that change is something that causes a fast and hard retreat for his “steady” personality. He would rather hurt than face that unknown, that change.
I am sad that this will affect the rest of our time together. I am seeing no way forward with the travels I thought we were going to do together. I cannot, in good conscience, plan for things that will only bring him more pain.
I’m not sure what the solution is. It might mean me going off and doing some things on my own. It might mean me settling with seeing our beautiful country from our car and giving up on my dreams of European vacations. It might mean me pushing him for a Backroads bike trip or 2.
There is a piece of me that longs for adventure, yet there is also a part of me that is becoming more and more of a homebody. I love this home we’ve created and want to embrace it for as long as I can. I want to have family gatherings, grandchildren sleepovers, dinners with friends, and quiet mornings sipping tea and watching the sunrise. I guess it does me no good to wish all the goodness away by cloaking my heart with disappointment about interrupted travel plans. Maybe this home will end up being the best part of these next years and maybe that’s ok after all.
There will be a day when we are no longer here, enjoying this home we’ve made. We will be in some one-story somewhere. Or I will be by myself. Or he will be by himself and I will be in some nursing home living my dad’s story. I don’t mean to be fatalistic, but at some point in time, there will be a change. Being an S for Steady, he won’t be happy about it, but then, neither will I.
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Sadly we will remember the rides that are hard, and this one, for multiple reasons, was one I would rather forget. I don’t want to remember that Dave was struggling to make 10 miles/hour. I don’t want to remember him shutting down and not willing to share with me his pain, his frustration, his emotions, his fear. Just let me in!! I am your wife. I want to share in your pain. It's a part of my job description.
But clearly that is not what he wanted. So, I left. I was already frustrated at how slow we were going, the lack of conversation, the lack of engagement. He seemed to clearly want to slog through by himself, so towards the end of the ride, I just sped up and kept going. I sailed furiously down Whitehouse-Spencer Rd. to Obee Rd. to Davis Rd. to home. I barely looked back but when I did I was substantially ahead of him. It was a race I won, but it was no victory.
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I am behind in my recording of these rides. I remember that it was…