Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Take the Long Way Home

The craziest thing happened yesterday. I was enjoying a bike ride with Eric, who was running, and Megan who was riding on the tag along 3rd wheel of my bike. We were on the local bike path, a path I have ridden numerous times, however, not too often in recent years. We were keeping pace with Eric (who runs pretty fast). I stopped for a minute and  somehow through a crazy miscommunication, Eric apparently motioned to me to turn around and go back the way we came, but I wasn't paying attention (although I looked like I was) and missed it, and suddenly, he was nowhere in sight. I thought I saw him way off in the distance, but I couldn't imagine why he would be going back where we just were and I figured that he was running in the other direction, just ahead of me, so I kept going, thinking we're on a loop, so we would meet at the beginning any way. What I didn't realize is that we had passed the loop turn off, and now were on a straight path, leading away from our car in the parking lot. Eric realized almost immediately what had happened, but couldn't catch me and figured eventually I would turn around. I had phone, but he didn't, so communication was totally impaired. I kept riding and riding and riding, thinking WHERE IS THE END????? Finally, I thought I was getting close and I asked someone coming the other way and they said oh yeah, the end is just right there- But it was the WRONG END. I had gone 3 miles in the opposite direction (beyond the previous 2.5 miles I rode with Eric) and since I had the van keys the only way back was 5 miles the other way. I was exhausted and crushed and just collapsed into tears. I called Matthew at home, sobbing and probably overreacting, but my legs were like jello and I was scared that on my way back I would take the wrong turn again and make the ride even longer. Megan was amazing. She was calm and soothing and said, "It's okay mom, it's okay." We had about 1/4 cup of water for both of us and it was sunny and hot and I was so tired.  I don't think I was really thinking straight, because there were people on the path that I could  have asked for help along the way, but they were all zooming by on their bikes and no one really paid any attention to me sobbing in the shade with my sweet Megan, except one lady, who asked if I needed help, and of course, once that offer was made, the floodgates opened again and I could hardly speak for telling her what was wrong. She gently explained to me about the turns of the path, and how the mile markers worked, and later Matthew (who could hear on the speaker) said the he was smiling as it sounded like she was talking to a very young child. But I really appreciated it and with her encouragement started off in the right direction. Later, I would think of several other viable options I could have chosen to have someone rescue me in a car, but as I said, my mind was not working. We continued on, counting the mile markers this time (how could I be so dumb) and back up and down all the hills and bridges. I had to stop several times to rest, and by this time could barely walk or pedal--Eric is convinced there is something wrong with my bike, plus Megan weighs about 45 pounds on the back and I weigh 95 pounds soaking wet....finally, an hour and fifteen minutes later I see Eric running towards us at the end of the path and I was never so grateful. It felt like I had been lost in the wilderness for days. He loaded us into the van and I could hardly move I was so tired. And through it all, Megan never lost her positive outlook. She sang her three favorite songs "You're a Grand Old Flag", "Take Me Out To the Ball Game" and "This Land is Your Land" all the way, every once in a while saying "Almost there!" What would I do without this precious child? She is a gift of love. She must have been exhausted, too, as she pedaled the whole time!

I had to go home and rest (something I NEVER do in the middle of the day) but I had a joint Memorial Day Picnic at my house with my next door neighbors to get ready for about 4 hours later. As the day went on, it became easier to talk about the experience (but harder to walk) and to say that I feel today like I was hit by a truck, is no understatement.

So many emotions went through my brain during that long ride, not the least of which was the sudden and deep understanding of what it feels like to be invisible in a crowd of happy people going about their lives. There are people who are starving, have no place to go, are ill without health care, are suffering with grief, and are forgotten for whatever reason. These people exist among us, but are really invisible. They could ask for help, but maybe they know not much can be done for them, or they don't know what to ask for or who to ask, and so they suffer alone, silent in their pain, unknown (maybe) to those of us who are nearby.

I had to keep reminding myself that I was on the bike path, in broad daylight, was not in any danger, and that I would get home, and of course, I did. But I am haunted by the feeling that some never will and it has opened my eyes to their situation in a whole new way.

Here are we singing the Grand Old Flag song, previously recorded, although I will have to do a new recording, as she can now sing (most of it) alone.

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