Hack, hack, harashoo, honk!

[Joy Beeson]

I remember a day when I felt worse than this and couldn't talk at all,
and I rode from New Salem to Westmere and came back by way of
Guilderland. (just west of Albany, New York, in case you want to look
it up.)

But I was thirty or forty years younger at the time, I was sixty
pounds lighter, and we needed groceries and other things that couldn't
be bought closer to home.

It's very annoying to get sick just as I was ready to start working
toward real rides.

I think it's time for a nap.

--
Joy Beeson
joy beeson at comcast dot net
http://joybeeson.home.comcast.net/~joybeeson

[Joy Beeson]

More than a week and a half and I'm still housebound, but yesterday I
dug out the flatfoot -- a Trek "Pure" that hasn't seen much service
since my knee healed -- and took a lap around the block. I couldn't
remember what pressure the tires took, and the sidewalls didn't say,
so I guessed forty pounds and my thumb said that that was about right.

Then my spouse found a slightly-rough spot on the sidewall; he looked
at it in a good light with his built-in magnifiers and said that the
pressure should be between thirty and fifty.

At that point, the alarm in my pocket went off so I went inside and
took medicine before mounting up. Forgot to pin my ankles to save
wear on my hems, and also forgot that I carry safety pins in my wallet
for just such an emergency.

Flatfoots are great for rehab, by the way: you can't fall off, and
it's only by extreme acrobatics that you can exert yourself.

But you can't *go* anywhere.

-----------------------------

I take that back -- a few hours after writing this post, I rode the
flatfoot to the teller machine.

I usually walk.


--

joy beeson at comcast dot net
http://joybeeson.home.comcast.net/

The above message is a Usenet post.
I don't recall having given anyone permission to use it on a Web site.