This week, Tuesday was a Monday and things have gone downhill since. We found out Tuesday that our family dog—Roger—died back in Kentucky. When we moved he stayed behind.
Our landing was uncertain in the beginning, and we were fairly certain we were going to touch down in a small apartment. And we did, and bounced into a second one before coming to a halt in our modest ranch with a modest yard. By the time we had room for the big lug he was ten years old. We just couldn't justify moving him so far, into a drastically different environment, only to have the kids get newly attached to him and then watch him die. Ugh! Was it a good decision? I can't say. I wish he'd been with us this past four years, but I know it would have been very difficult for him and for us.
Anyway, I started out the Tuesday-disguised-as-Monday with a flat on the Cannonball. That made me late for work. Once I finally got settled in I checked my personal email and found the message from my mother-in-law about Roger. It hit me harder than I expected it would. By the time I got home Mandy and the kids had just found out. They were understandably distraught, and I could finally start to process the reality and deal with my own feelings about the matter.
When I got home I noticed an odd pain in my right knee. It felt distinctly like the tendonitis I've suffered with in my elbows since my days of hard core bouldering. This is something I've been fearing all this past year since I've been totally dependent on the bike for my transportation. Chronic pain, chronic damage, is not something you want to be a factor when you depend on your body for your daily needs. But in trying to console my family and myself I ignored the pain. By bedtime I was noticing it more.
I was on the fence the night before, but I was planning on riding. That is truly the best strategy: plan on riding, have a backup plan. In the morning, Mandy and I lay in bed in the pre-dawn gloom discussing whether or not to send Boone to school. His class is reading Because of Winn-Dixie. At least it wasn't freakin' Where the Red Fern Grows, or Old Yeller!
Anyway, it would have been just fine with me to stay home with Boone, give my knee a rest and let him have a mental break to deal with his grief. But in the end I screwed up my courage and acted "grown-up" and decided he'd go to school and I'd go to work. But there was still the issue with my knee. The pain was mild, but distinct this morning. I'm hoping against all hope that I just overdid it on Monday riding out to Coal Creek Canyon and that this is not the beginning of tendonitis. Or worse. I don't mean to sound like a Debbie Downer, but being a realist, it is a distinct possibility.
In the end, to balance reality and my fears, I opted to carpool. The forecast for Wednesday included 90 mph wind gusts in the western metro area. And to be honest, I didn't even factor that into my decision making. Maybe if nothing else had been going on I would have considered that, but I had enough to deal with without even thinking about the wind.
By the end of the day yesterday my knee felt better, there was only the specter of pain. I'd been planning on going to the Arvada Sustainability Advisory Committee Meeting last night. Seems I got my dates messed up. The meeting was last week. Ah well...there's always next month.
My knee(s) felt much better on my ride in this morning. I took it slow and easy, and because I am a cyclo-ninja I was able to dodge the wind all the way to Golden.
There's a lot of other stuff going on in my brain that I don't want to commit to the permanence of the internet. Needless to say, I want to go back to Monday and do a do-over. I would even be willing to give up my MLK holiday to start over fresh and just have a normal week.