Gone But Not Forgotten

Yes, it's really been that long. And no, I have not been on the dragon in the basement all this time. In fact, I have been on it hardly at all.

But the new year is coming. And I am going to try it again. When I have my guts up. When I have drunk enough wine to gain courage but not too much to be stable. When I have made some sort of resolution that obligates me to do something, God help me, healthy.

But for tonight, in the post-Christmas blur of carbs....yes, I will have another macaroon.

Saved by Kevin Sorbo

So, all right, I'm back on the bike. Back in my squooshy spandex with the giant tush pad in the middle, back in my super-moisture-wicking tee, back in the saddle again.

Living dangerously, I have relinquished the helmet.

Since I'm not a complete idiot, I have also relinquished, for the time being, the street.

For those of you with cars, or who walk, or leave your doors, this is good news.

The red dragon is, for the moment, tethered to a trainer in a small blue room downstairs, where there is a fan, an inspirational poster of Lance Armstrong, and a window into the blissful world of Kevin Sorbo as Hercules.

I enter the room, turn on the TV, hit the "play" button on the DVD player, and mount my steed. The heroic music thunders, the scantily clad Grecian maidens sigh in their diaphanous robes, the wheels spin, my legs begin to burn, and Kevin Sorbo comes to the rescue by distracting my mind with his well oiled body.

Ah, Kevin. Thank you. You gaze out at me with your moist blue eyes, shrug the wild locks of your hair off your glistening, muscled shoulders, heave your ample pecs and say, "Okay. So the gorgon is terrorizing the village. Again."

And I laugh - gorgons terrorizing the village pale in comparison to middle aged women steering their bicycles onto people's lawns and shrubbery. You can count on a gorgon to throw a log, wave his arms threateningly, and eventually fall to the mighty Hercules. A gorgon is a gorgon is a gorgon. Dependable.

You can't count on anything with a middle aged chick on a bike, except perhaps that the one thing you figured couldn't possibly happen, will. No, she won't run into that mailbox. It's twenty feet away. Oops. Ok, well certainly she'll steer past that SUV. Oops. I see a doberman. Oops. Isn't that a blackberry bush? Oops. Not anymore.

And Kevin, much as I admire you as eye candy, you'd be the first one running, screaming ahead of me like a little girl. A face like yours can't be exposed to the danger of a road bike gone wild. Your agent wouldn't hear of it. And frankly, neither would I.

So for now, more for the safety of the neighbors than my own, I keep company with Kevin, secure in the knowledge that if a gorgon were to terrorize Maple Valley, I and my Red Dragon could mow it down and save Hercules for the Grecian virgins.

It's a comforting thought.

And when I get off the saddle, and limp over to the TV, I swear, Kevin Sorbo is smiling just for me.

Because I am not the only one who makes this sound.

But I am probably the only one who makes this sound just pedaling the bike down the street.

Ok, so I wasn't in the movie....

But heck, I was in the vortex for 10 days, which is nine days and twenty-two hours longer than Jimmy Stewart in his 120-minute film.

I love Overlake Hospital, they have the best doctors! Dr. Gorman is a tall, slender gentleman with white hair and a coolish demeanor which is belied by his Native American nametag and groovy Teva sandals. He's also a crackerjack neurologist.

After posing me in assorted interesting positions and making me walk across the floor first on my toes, then on my heels, he put me in a pair of goggles that were designed specifically to make the wearer resemble Mr. Magoo. They have magnifying lenses in them which make it impossible to see out of them but very easy for the doctor to see the eyes of the wearer, which now appear magnified to the size of small salad plates.

He had me look up, then down, then to the right and left, all the while muttering, "Uh huh....yep....uh huh." He then pronounced me vertiginous, which I affirmed with great gusto and nodding of my goggled head.

After we both agreed that I had vertigo and looked suitably ridiculous in magnified goggles, I trotted off with a presciption for physical therapy to set the matter right.

Forty minutes later I was delivered into the capable hands of Holly, who used something called the Epley Maneuver to rid my of the dizziness. Apparently, there are small crystals in the inner ear which can sluff off and deposit themselves in unlikely places in the canals, causing vertigo.

I have been told that there are only three reasons why this occurs: damage to the ear, of which I have had none, old age, which I stoutly object to, and idiomatic cause, which basically means we have no idea and hope it doesn't happen again.

So endeth my vertigo.

Now if I could only get an Epley maneuver to rid me of the swirlies I get riding the dragon!

Things I Imagine Myself Doing While Waiting for Vertigo To Go Away

Underwater Bicycling...



Riding A Unicycle over 200 miles



Not Being This Guy



Thoughts?

Wishful Thinking

This could be me!

Ear Grounded

Well, poop. Woke up this morning to roll out of bed, only to find that I couldn't stand up straight. Bouncing off the walls like a pinball. Nothing heroic here, not even anything "bike" related - I simply was dizzy and nauseated from an internal ear blockage. Vertigo!

Jon was a sweetheart, taking me to the otolaryngoloist this afternoon, and after an hour of poking and probing with tiny, pointed silver implements(don't ask) I have it on good authority that I should be back to normal in a day or two.

In the meantime, I study websites like http://www.roadbikerider.com/articles.htm for notes on how to master the dragon. And I wonder - how much easier would this be on a mountain bike?

I don't want to give up on my dragon. But I sit here today, flabby and bruised and whirlheaded, and feel very very very forty eight. Sigh.

I noticed that the dragon is missing one of his little buttons - the kind that sit on the end of the handle to keep the wrap in place. For just a moment I felt a moment of pity for him. Maybe he is just as frustrated as me.

It looks like its clouding up a bit. Perhaps rain tomorrow. Perhaps a new perspective.