Monday Blues: A Beautiful Ride

Mom has always said that she regrets not being at the hospital twenty-four hours a day when, as a tyke, I had my tonsils removed. Fact of the matter is, I couldn't tell you if she was there for one hour each day, or for twenty-three. What I do remember is visiting the toy store beforehand, and getting to pick out a few things - those few things being, a stuffed spaniel of some sort which I named "Freckles," a bunch of those iconic little green army men, and a box of little plastic war planes with which I had a great battle as I ate my jello and ice cream. Oh, then there was that psuedo-dream of waking in the operating room, seeing things I didn't want to see, and promptly going back under - real, or memorex? I will probably never know.

Anyway, the tables were turned these past seven days, moms turn to spend some quality time in the hospital, with the family sitting with her. Very few people seem to escape the accumulative problems of aging.

We have long known the many, and various, physical benefits of exercise and active living. More recently, strong connections linking exercise and mental health, have begun to be documented in earnest. I suppose there is no guarantee that all that exercise will be enough to counter any flaws of genetics, or damage accrued from all those runs from scrimmage, or hitting the deck on the weekly ride, but as old Ben Franklin apparently said "an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." Behind many old wives tales, and catchy quotes, there is often a measure of practical truth.

This year has not gotten off to the start I had hoped it would - two days of riding within that two week period. In fact more than anything this year, so far, appears to be a stagnant continuation of the entire previous year, the lowest mileage year on record. According to my records. Fortunately, and now that things have settled down, there seems to be enough of the year left that, with a little effort, things can be turned around.

Get out and ride.