|
Order this writing in the collection book Unlocking the Mysteries available for only $1795 |
 |
| |
This appears in a pre-2010 issue of Down in the Dirt magazine.
|
|
|
|
| ||
BICYCLE
© 4/20/2005 Connie Vigil Platt
It all started when my knee started hurting. It got so bad I couldn’t walk across the room without pain shooting up my leg.
The only thing to do of course was go to my family doctor.
Naturally the first thing he said was, “You need to lose some weight. If you don’t you may have to have knee replacement surgery, and I know you don’t want that. You have developed osteoporosis/arthritis in your joints. I can give you some pills that will help but you need to do something.”
My opinion of him immediately plummeted. That is an old person ailment. At not even seventy I would not believe I was ready to be old. How could he even suggest that I was over weight? When I was eighteen I weighted about 98 pounds.
I wasn’t eighteen in years old anymore but in my mind I was still that skinny young girl. So it was hard for me to admit that I had gotten older.
My best choice would be to lose some of the extra pounds.
If you lose two pounds a week how long will it be before you disappear completely. I was in no danger of fading away.
I did try to fix nourishing meals. I bought smaller plates; to fool myself into thinking I was getting full size portions. I tried to arrange the food in an appetizing manner. You eat with your eyes as well as your taste.
The first week I gained two pounds.
Since the diet didn’t work I bought some exercise equipment. I tried riding a stationary bicycle in front of the television and that was no fun since my husband refused to give up the channel changer. I had a basement full of gym equipment that was fast growing rust and housing various types of mold. I didn’t want to use it and didn’t want to keep it clean. My knee kept getting weaker.
Since I was afraid if I didn’t do something drastic, I would soon not be able to walk. So I decided I needed to ride a bicycle. As a child I never learned to ride a two-wheeled bike so in the natural progression of things I should be able to ride a three-wheeled bike.
I scoured the newspaper ads for a second hand bike, on the off chance that it would end up with the other instruments of torture growing old in the basement.
I finally found one in my price range, or in other words, cheap. It needed quite a bit of work but my husband said he would tear himself away from the television long enough to fix it. He worked on it for several days, oiling, greasing, and even getting new tires.
He got on and rode around the yard. He pedaled silently and effortlessly. It looked great.
“Come on get on and try it out.” He called.
I lifted my leg over the seat and put it back on the ground.
“Get on.”
I shook my head.
“Get on, I’ll hold you.”
With every ounce of will power I could muster I got on and sat on the seat. Making sure my feet were on the pedals.
He pushed.
I screamed and tried to get off.
“Pedal with your feet. I won’t let you fall,” He shouted.
I screamed and tried to get off.
He started pushing with one hand on the handlebars and one hand holding my back.
I screamed and tried to get off.
We made so much noise we had attracted a crowd of neighbors. One of them said, “If you can walk upstairs you can ride a bike. Just move your feet up and down.” He made pedaling motions with his hands. Easy for him to say, sure you can pedal the air with your hands.
Every day we tried to practice with a bicycle that wouldn’t co-operate, so we didn’t have much success. The bystanders gave up calling out encouragement and went home to more important matters.
Still it didn’t get any easier even without an audience. Finally, giving up all hope, we put it in the garage. Where it smiled evilly at me every time I went to get in my car.
As if it knew it had won the war. It got so bad that I started parking in the driveway so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
I hate to think that an inanimate object had gotten the best of me so one day when I was alone I collected all the courage I had and wheeled the object of my terror outside.
Pulling up every ounce of nerve I got on. It sat there. I pushed down with one foot as I had been instructed. I move about an inch. I pushed with the other foot, and stayed in the same spot. Again with the first foot, I moved slightly.
Finally I got it moving, somewhat erratically but moving, weaving and swaying around the yard.
It was several days before I was brave enough to take it out on the sidewalk, and several more before I would tell anyone I was actually riding it.
My husband has gotten a two-wheel bicycle for himself and we load them up and go ride around the park. We are having so much fun doing something together. It is great exercise and I have a wonderful feeling of accomplishment for overcoming my fears.
Oh yes I have lost quite a bit of weight, I’m not going so say how much because then you could figure out how much I weighed to begin with. My knee feels so much better I can walk without a limp and my doctor says I won’t need surgery, I don’t know if this will work for everybody but it worked for me.
