Two Cyclists, One Day at a Time
Lately, I’ve been thinking about perspective — how small and fragile our little blue planet is, swirling through the universe. It makes a lot of what we humans argue about seem… a bit ridiculous. At the same time, it sharpens my focus on what really matters.
James continues to surprise me every single day. We never quite know what the next hour will bring — keeps things exciting… whether we like it or not.
On Easter Sunday, we did something we haven’t done in a long time — we rode up Mt. Vision in Point Reyes. One of our old favorite routes. We got a late start, as mornings can be a bit of an adventure these days. After breakfast (and all his meds for “dessert”), James’s blood pressure sometimes drops to numbers that would make most people immediately lie down… permanently. Somehow, his athlete’s heart keeps him going — though not without a bit of wobbling, confusion, and creative interpretations of gravity.
So, we do what we do: I guide him to our little sunlit loveseat, he resets, and after a while — voilà — we get another shot at the day.
We finally set off in the early afternoon, in perfect weather. Once we turned off Sir Francis Drake and climbed Mt. Vision Road, the Easter traffic vanished. Peace, quiet… and two slightly stubborn cyclists pretending everything is completely normal.
And for a while, it was.
No Lewy. No worries. Just us on the road. Glorious.
End result: 45 miles, 3,431 feet of climbing, and two very tired but very happy humans arriving home full of endorphins and questionable judgment.
Those days carry us.
Even when we feel too old, too sick, too “whatever”… we go anyway. We just go — and give whatever tries to stop us a very unfriendly gesture. So far, it’s working.
Since then, James has been riding with me partway to work and even riding home alone some days. Friends lift him up, and every now and then his old wit pops out — sharp, perfectly timed, and just enough to remind me: he’s still very much in there.
At the same time, the challenges are real. Technology, for example, has officially declared war. A “new” refurbished computer and even his phone can trigger the heebie-jeebies — sometimes complete with shaking and a look that says, “This device is clearly plotting against me.”
We have an in-person appointment at UCSF next week with our neurologist after a year of Zoom calls. We’re looking forward to seeing her — in actual three dimensions.
I’m heading to Austin on Friday, and James will stay with Coby again. In October, we’re hoping to celebrate our granddaughter’s third birthday with some family visiting from Germany — assuming James stays stable and airline prices come back down to planet Earth.
Through it all, we try to stay grounded in what matters.
Thank you for being here, for caring, and for helping us keep going.
Love to you all,
James and Margit
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