I felt rotten yesterday afternoon. Nothing was really wrong, I just felt rotten. It was the first day I've felt anything but great since I started riding regularly, more than six weeks ago. One rotten afternoon and more than 42 good ones: damn good ratio.
Barb and I went riding again last night. It took all her strength to get around the duck pond twice. The second time I had to push her bike up the little hill, but still...she made a valiant effort, and she had fun.
Barb is so very ill, but she keeps getting up every day. She keeps trying in every conceivable way. We got to the picnic shelter, and she rested a bit. Later, I set about taking both bikes to the car, but she wanted to take hers. It was only 20 yards, but she'd been completely tapped out less than 10 minutes earlier. Somehow, she called forth the strength to do one more thing.
The secret to life is knowing when to give in to the rotten and when to dredge up the strength to push the bike to the car. If any of you find the formula to that compound, please write soonest.