emergency weblog; or: epersonae; or: elaine nelson

in which I write about stuff

a little every day

in which the author muses on mild depression and the effect of exercise, resolves to improve herself through the literary arts, and tells a story about cycling and rain.

Categories: General

today I saw “Dylan’s posting about a low-grade depression”:http://clientandserver.com/archives/001005.html and thought, “yeah, I can see some of that.”

but as I said in his comments, I also rediscovered the power of exercise to regulate my mood. long bike rides, even in the rain (funny story, that), are keeping me from plunging off the edge. (mmmm, melodrama.)

on top of that, I think I’m going to try something new; namely, a little discipline in my blogging. I’m enjoying reading during my van time (Collapse, at the moment), so instead I’ll take some of my copious time in front of computer screens to kick out some words.

I don’t know what exactly I’m going to say, but I think that’s what I need, to write w/out any particular committment of subject. (Aila looks up at me with serious eyes, but I’m feeling committment-shy, at least in my writing.) I may even use this space for fiction, which I’ve not done much previously.

15 minutes, at least, every day, just typing gaily blah blah blah. 😉

so, yeah.

today we’ve gotten sun, off and on, after a few solid days of steady rain, which reminds me: I was going to tell the biking in the rain story.

I’ve been cycling to my physical therapy appointments; I feel the irony in my knees as I dismount and switch from the smooth motion of cycling to the little hesitation of walking. Monday, when I was getting ready to leave, I could either take the bus that goes from right by the house right to where I need to go, or I could cycle as usual.

I looked out the window: dark clouds on the horizon, light clouds above, and no rain. I bet against the weather and figured I could handle a few sprinkles. The last appointment, I rode in fog, which was cool and lovely, even if it covered my glasses with little drops.

Around the corner, across the big street, cut through the gas station — which always makes me chortle — and as I was turning into the bike lane, the rain started to fall. Light at first, but not for long. As I swooped down the hill, the drops picked up speed right along with me, and when I cut across Martin to head back uphill, it was pouring.

Still, there was a hardass glory in riding through rain, uphill, breathing hard but not stopping, even when it briefly turned to hail, and then back to rain again.

When I arrived, I was soaked to the skin: hair through the vents in my helmet, arms through both jacket and shirt, legs through my exercise capris — easy to roll up so Nancy can watch me walk back & forth down the hall — even my gloves were soaked. I had to improvise in locking up my bike, so my seat wouldn’t get wet!

Nancy, my physical therapist, kept asking if I were cold, and gave me a towel to sop up some of the water on my arms and legs. I wasn’t cold, though: too exhilarated from the exercise.

On the other hand, I’m now likely being referred to orthopedics, because the swelling and pain in my knee just won’t. go. away. And I walk with just a bit of a hitch, even after three months.

I’m trying not to panic about it, and keep thinking about how much I enjoy my rides.

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