As I mentioned yesterday, I needed to break free from my standard multi-surface loop and do something different. One idea was to venture out for another one of my fat bike photo rambles on the Farley (with all do respect to Gnat). When I woke up this morning that seemed to be the ride plan that produced the most girth to my loins–so that’s what I did.
It had been a few weeks since I was last on the Farley and it felt good to be atop it again. For being a 31+ pound, hairy, troll-beast of a bike, it rolls quite good on Michigan dirt roads and is always a fun alternative to my normal dirt road steed (even though I love that steed more than life itself).
Around 10 miles into the ride the fun was cut short when I decided to check my phone to make sure B-Man hadn’t sent me text a me asking something akin to “can I have some ice cream, it’s after 10:30 AM?” Sadly, what I saw was a text from my brother back in the Pittsburgh area telling me that my seventy-three year old dad was having chest pains and was heading to the local hospital to get checked out. Oh boy…
After sending and getting a series of frantic texts from the side of dirt farm road in the middle of nowhere I mounted up and continued on. I tried to tell myself that it all was going to be OK, that my dad would be fine, that he was getting checked out by medical professionals and that right now there was nothing I could do except hope and pray that he’d be fine. All of that is easier said than done. I went from a cyclist who never even looks at his phone while riding, to one who checks every hour or so to make sure his son is OK, to literally checking every five minutes to see if there was any news from my brother or sister about my dad.
Since I was too far away from the car to do anything else, I pedaled on and tried not to think about the worst case scenarios and hope for the best. I took a few more pics here and there, but as you can imagine my heart and mind was elsewhere.
Cut to the chase
Before I blather on about pointless bike stuff, I will cut to the chase and say that my dad is good. He did have a heart attack and did have 100% blockage in one artery, but all the necessary procedures were done and he is doing well. I finally talked to him around 8 PM tonight and he is in good spirits and happy to have caught the issue in time.
Back to bike nonsense
While my legs and body were thoroughly enjoying the ride and loving plowing through the sand with the Farley, I couldn’t get my mind to stop racing. I stopped here and there to take some quick pics but couldn’t help but feel immense guilt. Guilt for being 7 hours away, guilt for being out on my bike while my dad was having a heart attack, guilt that my siblings will be dealing with the brunt of this situation for the next day or two, etc. I know, I know… much of that is not rational, but you can’t stop the speeding, out of control, spastic guilt train of a beat down, depressed, Cancer/Catholic reject.
All kidding aside the ride was less than stellar, but if there is anywhere that I can think things out proper, it’s on a bike. So I was actually sort of thankful that I was on my bike when I heard this news and not jerking off to German lesbian porn in a locked bedroom (not that I ever do that).
Nine to ten hours after the fact, I can look back on all this and say that it was a good ride. That I got some swell photos, and that it felt great to get a ride in in the cool, humid air before the rains came today.
The rain started an hour or so after I got home and continued through the evening. Thankfully the rain stopped long enough for me to throw some Soiled Burgers and Chamois Dogs on the grill before watching the US Women defeat Germany 2-0. USA! etc., etc., etc….
It will be nice to ride tomorrow knowing that my dad is doing well, that Wifey will be home tomorrow night and that I can head to work in the shop Thursday and Friday and bring home some cash-like bacon.
When I left for my ride this morning I didn’t think that I would be blogging about heart attacks and guilt nearly twelve hours later. I thought it would be more of the same vapid, cycling bullshit. It turns out I was wrong. I would have rather been right.
I’m just glad everything is OK for now.
Later.