The Dirt Field

After things went to hell last week, the first thing to go (even before Bobby; is it too soon to make jokes?) was my appetite. I couldn’t eat a single bite for long stretches over five days and even keeping up with my normal water consumption was a struggle. This did wonders for my cyclist’s body. I could literally see my legs shrinking and feel my energy plummeting until walking around my condo became a struggle. And I live in a place with the square footage of an elevator.

Without having energy or motivation, riding my bike was out of the question. I’m in a rest month, which means only easy rides to work on skills and stay in shape, but even those were out of the question. Watching reruns of Desperate Housewives felt exhausting enough; carrying the bike outside to ride seemed fatal. But by Tuesday, I knew it was time to at least try some physical activity.

The opportunity presented itself. My mom and I just left a restaurant together when she announced that she needed to stop by her office. I was reluctant to wait that out and since her office is just a few miles from my house, I decided to walk home. She balked at the idea, I argued back, and the next thing I knew, I was getting out of the car on the side of the road. Walking seemed quite tedious, so despite being in jeans and carrying the prized Louis Vuitton purse I’d bought for my 25th birthday, I started running.

I ran all the way home, down the side of the road and then through the woods. It was painful to exert so much effort after so many days of lying in bed feeling miserable and refusing food. But it felt good at the same time, and when I made it home in good time and sat down on the couch to watch more Desperate Housewives, it felt like I could be a little normal again.

The next day, I got back on the bike for the first time in a week. It was good. =)