Yesterday morning, I dressed in a skirt that looks like a buffered bike lane and a neon-accented cycling top (although I consider myself a person who rides bikes; not a cyclist).
I took my bike out from the garage at the home where my husband and I raised our two daughters, who are here with us right now due to COVID-19 and to whom I almost didn’t come home five days prior when a driver plowed into me and just kept going.*
I gave my bike an ABC Quick Check, as usual (see Days 8-11 of my free downloadable class, Pedal Power with Pattie, for more about that).
I bungee-corded BikeNoodle to the back, as usual (only when I ride in this suburb-city).
I attached my front and back bike lights, as usual.
I put on my helmet and turned on my body camera and started my mile tracker app, as usual.
I rode to the farmers market and tucked four ears of corn, still in their husks, into the neon yellow bag I wear across my back as usual, and rode the two miles home with their hair and mine tassling behind us.
I waved to the only bike rider I passed — a guy in lycra. As usual.
But nothing is usual right now.
And I have some thinking to do.
* Does the driver even know if I am alive or dead? Does she know that the very next day, the spaghetti squashes on my front lawn were finally ripe and I cried with gratitude that I was there to pick them and make Food for My Daughters?