Forgive Me

Forgive Me, Corona, For I Have Sinned

Social distancing...Isolation...Separation...Quarantine. Call it what you will. It’s not terribly enjoyable. I know some people are better at it than I am, and there are others who are less adept. Hopefully, in the big picture, enough of us are doing enough isolating to rein in the spread of Covid19.

We do fine at home, just me and my wife, and Dante and Eddie (our dogs)...alone together. She still works full time remotely, so her work life continues as before, but the commute is shorter. I still have to go in to the bike shop to do my work, can’t really adjust that derailleur from home. The shop owners are doing an amazing job of keeping me isolated from the public. (A fact that benefits all.) Before I can even touch a bicycle, that bike has to be allowed in through locked doors, and sterilized with disinfectants before moving the bike back to my work area. Whether I’m fixing a flat, or doing a complete three-hour overhaul, I need not worry that I’m being put at risk, just for my customers’ sake.

So I’ve generally played by the rules for some six weeks, but I think I may have fallen off of that imaginary wagon this past weekend*. Saturday dawned with predicted foul weather. Temperature in the 40s, and a steady rain. All. Day. Long. It’s depressing enough in today’s world without a day full of gray. Having been at home for the last six weeks has most projects finished, so nothing to do but laundry, read a book, and watch television. So Saturday was the perfect stay-at-home day. Sunday was forecast to be much better, no rain, and sun breaking through late-morning. My friend Julie was running a solo marathon that day, the day she and several others were scheduled to run the London Marathon. She had posted her planned route the day before, so I made my riding plans to meet with her somewhere along her planned route. She commenced her journey at 8:00 am from her house, and I began a few minutes later from mine. Her place is out on the eastern edge of town, while I live up on the northern end, so I had to navigate my way through town for some forty minutes to begin following her run. I did keep my face covered while riding where I was likely to encounter other people, but once out in the open unoccupied spaces, I pulled the mask down to enjoy the fresh morning air. By my estimation I should catch her somewhere near the five mile point of her run, but I hadn’t factored in that stupid headwind I’d be pushing for the next four miles. I put my head down and pushed onward, knowing I’d not meet my target when I’d hoped, but there was plenty of road ahead to catch her. As I rode through my last mile northbound, I spied two vehicles at the crossroads ahead. I assumed they were there to cheer Julie on her run, but they left a couple of minutes before I got to the intersection. I took this to mean that I was getting closer to her. Just as I thought, I caught up to her about two miles later, just south of Towanda on Route 66. 

I accompanied her for about an hour, or 6-7 miles. It was fun to see her fans popping up here and there on her route to cheer her on! She kept track of the number of admirers, making hash marks on her hand  with a sharpie. The most entertaining fans were dressed as Darth Vader and an Imperial Stormtrooper! I was informed that these two were changing costumes and meeting Julie along her route every five miles...and they were the occupants in the two cars I’d seen earlier, dressed as T. Rexes. That must have been quite a sight, two prehistoric creatures standing at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere! 

Julie was going to be running on sidewalks for the next several miles, so I bid her a farewell, and turned my bicycle once again toward the open country of McLean County. It had rained all of the previous day (did I mention that yet?)(did I mention how much I enjoy rainy Saturdays in spring?), so I headed north into the wind to check on the Mackinaw River. I’ve seen it flood many times before, and never tire of seeing this serene tiny eight-foot-wide stream becoming an angry torrent (relatively speaking.) The river was indeed well out of its banks, but not as high as I’ve seen in past years.

The spillway at Lake Bloomington was also flowing strong!

I now had a short ride back home (about 12 miles) with a well-earned tailwind! I took a detour past some good friends’ home on the off chance they would be outside. I rolled around the corner, and there they were, out doing some yard work. They took a break in their endeavors, as glad to see me as I was to see them. We chatted for about 40 minutes, and it was time for me to hit the road again. “One second,” said one of them, and she rushed inside, and quickly returned with a can of beer I had not previously sampled. “Thanks,” I exclaimed, slipping the can into a jersey pocket, and I was off. The ten mile trip back with the tailwind was glorious, flying down the road at speeds I don’t normally get to enjoy. 

I was soon back home, and ready to re-enter my isolation. A hot soapy shower to wash off any of the virus I may have come in contact with, and back into my sheltered world of the last seven weeks. Any contact I had with others was minimal, zero actual physical contact with humans, and I even washed that beer can off before depositing it in the fridge. While I obviously bent some of the quarantine rules, I was careful. I was sure that the people I visited had been diligent about social isolating. The real winner here was my mental state. It was so nice to visit friends, to get out in the sunshine, and to fully experience a spring Sunday here in central Illinois.

*I should note that I’m publishing this two full weeks after my day “out,” and no symptoms are presenting. Yes, I know that I may be one of the lucky asymptomatic people, but given my advanced age, I doubt it. I don’t recommend you go out as I did, the world could be a better place sooner if we hunker down.

Be safe out there, and hope to see you all on a barstool soon!