Picture(s) worth a thousand words

First time on the bike since the crash. Marit on the trainer, ever aware of cadence and form. April 28, 2008

I don't really know what to say, however today I reached a huge milestone in my recovery. It's been exactly six weeks since my crash, and today - for the very first time since March 17 - I had the opportunity to sit on my bike. It wasn't fast and it wasn't that long.

I didn't even wear bike shorts, didn't use chamois cream...

There was no need for water bottles, for nutrition. The i-pod, TV, and other distractions remained put away. It was just me, the bike, Nathaniel, and the camera. And Tabbitha may have had a peek or two.

But for ten glorious minutes, for ten wonderful, fantastic, fabulous minutes, I got to spin my legs on the trainer.

Earlier in the morning, I managed to negotiate with Jonathan, my incredible physical therapist. After a grueling two and a half hour session, he ended by asking me if I wanted to hop on the PT bike at the clinic. I looked at that bike, with its fan front wheel, and soft squishy seat, and all I could think of was my bike at home.

I pleaded my case, explained how I had been the "model" PT patient: following all the rules, not pushing myself, listening to my body, doing my exercises on schedule, keeping a journal of my pain leves/physical activities/daily thoughts - and everything in between. The look on my face said it all, and Jonathan agreed that I could bike at home.

I floated out of the office, I swear.

And technically, I don't even have a "working" bike, as my road bike is still packed up from being shipped from California, my SCOTT plasma has cables going every which way and no pedals, and the seat is missing from my Cervelo. Oh yeah, and I lent my tools to Donna before her race last weekend.

So tool-less, seat-less, cabe-less, but with the green light to bike at home, I managed to contact Donna, get my tools, and remove the seat from the SCOTT and replace it on the Cervelo.

The fastest seat switch in the history of Marit the Bike Mechanic.

There was a flurry of activity everywhere - a wrench ended up on the floor, a screw and washer were lost briefly, and I needed to use some creative ingenuity to make the seat fit. And no, it wasn't the wonderful ISM Adamo Saddle, but it served a good purpose.

And besides - let's face it - with nerve damage and lack of sensation in my pevic floor region, how bad could the seat-thing be, right?

The good news: I made it work. And it was a little uncomfortable - which means that I DO have sensation. I couldn't stop grinning in spite of myself. I can FEEL the discomfort of a saddle! Hooray!!

The bad news:

Uh -

I'll get back to you on that one.

Okay - I thought of something.

I couldn't bike longer.

To everyone out there - please don't ever take what you do, the things you love for granted, as a given. You never know when they might be taken away. It makes me sad to think about how many times I dreaded my trainer - and now I would give anything to spend more time on it, to spend more time on my bike. Be thankful for what you have, grateful for the ability to do, to pursue what makes you happy.

View from the front. Too focused on riding to fix the sleeves of my shirt. Oh well - keep in mind, I only had ten minutes. Too busy focusing on the other stuff to care about what the clothes were doing!

And enjoy the Journey - the good, the bad, and everything in between - that life takes you on.

Oh yeah, and before I get too sappy, remember to laugh along the way.

How could I leave this shot out? This is for Ness, who coined the phrase "extendo crack". The view from the rear. Marit and her extendo-crack. This is the NORMAL level at which I wear my bike shorts, but from this view, it looks like I have a serious plumber's crack going on. The more I think about it, the more I am convinved I will get a beautiful tatoo - that uses the scar in the design - to commemorate my recovery, my Journey.