Joy here...Back in early November, when I was out of town taking care of my little nephew (and being run a bit ragged in the process...kudos to all moms and dads out there!), two members of our erstwhile cycling sisterhood, The Professor and The Trainer, went out for a morning bike ride to the park. They figured that they would just do a ride up to the Pink Lake lookout and then get on with their Friday. What happened was an entirely different story.
I was out of town, with a toddler pulling at me, a friend beside me with one child in her lap and her elder toddler pulling at her, noise, toys, and insanity all around when my phone rang. It was the Trainer. I was wondering why she was calling, because she knew I was out of town. I could hear the wind behind her and knew she was calling from outside. As I strained above the voices of the children to hear what she said, I started to understand. I heard the words "there's been an accident" and "hit by a car." My stomach dropped. Oh god. I handed my nephew a toy, stood up so I could concentrate, and mouthed the words "car accident" to my friend so that she would know I was distracted. What can I do?
As The Professor and The Trainer had finished their ride up to Pink Lake and were exiting the park, The Professor was riding just ahead of the Trainer and where the bike path meets the road, she had a green light to cross. The car turning right also had a green light. They both took their opportunity at the same moment - The Professor riding straight, the car turning right into her.
The Trainer saw it all happen; she saw The Professor fly over the hood of the car; she heard the thud as she hit the road on the other side.
Luckily, The Professor seemed fine, shaken but fine. She was scared; she was bruised, but it didn't seem like anything was broken. But she certainly wasn't going to ride home after this.
That's where the phone call to me comes in. The Trainer was desperately trying to think who would be around on a Friday morning with a car who could help. She knew I was out of town, but she also knew I'd be able to get ahold of Cili Padi, the one retired sister in our cycling sisterhood. If we could only contact her, she could ride in on her white horse and rescue the damsel in distress. And so with a bit of phone tag that's what happened. Cili Padi drove out and met them there and drove The Professor home. She went straight to emergency where she was diagnosed with a concussion and told to take it easy.
Fast forward 3 1/2 weeks.
The Professor teaches a spinning class on Tuesday nights at The Trainer's gym. This past Tuesday was going to be her first class back teaching while riding the bike herself. So we all decided to register for that class and head out together.
It was a cold, November day. The rain fell heavily and loudly around me as I walked to the gym, soaking my feet through my shoes, and drenching the bottoms of my pants, almost all the way up to my knees. Cars whooshed by through puddles, splashing me with road water, and I was wet and cold by the time I reached the gym. But there they were: the sisterhood. The Professor was getting ready to teach the class, with her microphone on, and Cili Padi and The Sashinator were already set up on their bikes. I hopped on my bike and felt the familiar feel of the wheel of a stationary bike engage my thighs just like it does every Thursday morning during my regular spinning class, and as I adjusted my heart rate monitor, Power Penna made her way into the gym. She was almost as rained on as I was, and as we all settled into our strength ride, the car accident and the cold November seemed to fade, as we pushed ourselves and sweated hard.
We went out for a post-class drink (and, no, we didn't shower beforehand!), and The Trainer met up with us. We chatted; we laughed; we caught up, and we just generally enjoyed each other's company.
So what started out as just a loose group of riders getting together every now and then throughout the summer to get some cycling fitness has turned into a group of friends.
And I, for one, am thankful for that.
Over and out,
Joy
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