Eight Years and 56k Miles . . .

Dave went out for an afternoon bike ride and when he called to tell me he was back, I could hear it in his voice.  Something wasn’t right.  When I went to let him in, I noticed the tear in his arm warmer.  And then the blood.  At least he wasn’t dripping blood . . .

Yes, he’d had a spill.  He went down on his left side, resulting in a hefty bump on his upper leg not quite at hip level and some abrasions here and there.  He wasn’t a bloody pulp, thank goodness, but he’ll be feeling this tomorrow.  I hope he’s able to sleep.

Today’s incident is testimony for wearing a good helmet while cycling.  His isn’t cracked, but it is scuffed.  If he had not had on a helmet . . . well . . . let’s not go there.  This helmet is done; they are not to be used again after a crash.  Thankfully, he has a spare.  Guess we know what Santa is bringing Dave this year, eh?

The bike is fine, too.  Being a carbon fiber frame, once it sustains a crack, that’s it.  Dave took the impact of the fall, with his bike falling on top of him.  The bike’s fine. 

Today’s mishap is his first here in the States, coming eight years and 56,000 miles since his arrival here in 2006.  Those are actually pretty impressive stats, showing that he is quite the accomplished cyclist.  His last crash resulting in injury was in 2002.  Again, given the miles and racing he has done in the past, this is impressive.

As nerve-wracking as it is to see one’s beloved banged up even this “little” bit, I cannot imagine what the wives of professional cyclists – the ones in the Tour de France, for instance – endure seeing their loved ones involved in serious and often life-threatening spills.

Thing is, I knew something had happened.  He was running a bit late and I had that passing thought-feeling that something was amiss.  One of those “feelings” that is like a scrolling marquee across one’s consciousness.  It was a knowingness.  

We have had lovely weather this weekend.  This evening is even rather chilly, but it won’t drop down to freezing.  Not yet, not here.  It’s South Carolina, after all, but I am wearing a jacket when outside.  I hear there were snow flurries sighted in the Poconos up in Jersey.  Yep, it’s that time of year again.

Tomorrow is grocery shopping day, and we’ll check out the grocery store that is closer than Walmart.  We are doing quite well with provisions, so probably won’t need to get that much.  Strangely, neither of us has been terrifically hungry here.  I have cooked a couple of meals, but we seem to be having bigger breakfasts . . . and those are typically after noon with our new schedule.  By dinnertime, we’re not ravenous and have been sliding by with sandwiches, soup or salads.  Our grill is assembled again, and we talked this evening of perhaps finding a couple of steaks for grilling.  Dave will take a day off the bike tomorrow, so it might be the right time for a cookout.

Had a lovely phone visit with a girlfriend in Texas this afternoon.  We had not visited since before our relocation, so we had a bit of catching up to do.  Thank goodness for my girlfriends with whom I share a history . . . my sisters keep me sane.

Okay, it’s already 11:30 and soon time for me to make a patrol round. See?  The time passes quickly here.  I anticipate this week to be more “routine,” as we have the major work done in settling in to our new routine and life.

That being said, guess I’d best put on my jacket, head out to the truck and prowl around the property a wee bit.  Hope you’ve had a groovy weekend!

Thanks for stopping by!