When we arrived in the national forest, my left knee looked like a cantaloupe. This is the formerly good knee that has been plaguing me for some months now. I did some nursing it: ibuprofen, ice, and intermittent walks with Hops (he LIVES for a walk in the woods). It’s clear that moving around is good for it, and sitting behind Foxy’s wheel is not. Meanwhile, I was parked at a mountain bike trailhead, watching all the locals come and go, congregate and share beers and talk shit… it was pretty torturous, and made me nostalgic for a community of mtbers to which I used to belong.
We also saw a beautiful bat! just lying trailside – I was afraid it was dead, but it wasn’t; I was afraid it was hurt, but as I examined it and tried to figure out how I might could help, it eventually grew tired of me and just rolled over and flew away. This was a special treat.
Lacking any other place to be immediately, and having found a lovely, free place to camp and cook my meals, I’ve stayed. Tonight, the second evening, I felt good enough about the knee to take a short ride; and it was fine. The worst day on a bike beats the best day off one, and I am grateful for every pedal stroke I get to make. Tomorrow, knee permitting, I’ll make a few more.
