32

Each day I am stronger, I feel it in my heart.

But when we go out to ride with the group, it is all I can do to hold a wheel ( stay close enough to the person ahead of you to draft and gain efficiency from reduced wind resistance ).  It is almost 3 months after the thyroid surgery, and one month after the radiation, it just seems I should be stronger.   But either way, the dog still fights on.

Today we headed out toward Fermi Labs, that dichotomy of a park where on top you see fisherman, buffalo in the field and pass bogs where  frogs croak a symphony that starts softly as we approach, rises to an ear shattering crescendo, and then fades gently out of range as we cruise on.   Underneath this  wood and field hides a giant cyclotron, where physicists try to know the hand of God.  We merely fight the wind which shifts  half way to reward us with a headwind out and back.

Thirty two miles at the end, and again I am so spent, that my story falls into a few fragmented memories.

The bogs where the invisible frogs croak like a thousand birds singing.  Heather giving me a pull when I was floundering

Following closely
Auburn hair shining in the wind
The joy of movement

And the glass of ice water at the end.