FROM MY VANTAGE POINT on the sidewalk in front of the Chinese takeout place, I was soaking up and enjoying the late-afternoon winter sun.  It was a gloriously sunny and mild mid-December afternoon, far too nice to let pass without at least a short ride.

As I had several holiday cards to deliver to my local friends, and in the spirit of cycle touring where everything should do at least double duty, I had set off a few miles earlier to make my self-appointed round while getting in a few (fully-loaded) training miles at the same time.

It quickly seemed there was something, something not quite right.  Riding seemed just generally harder than it should have been.  “Meh”, I thought, “last Saturday’s ride must have taken more out of me than I thought.”  I’m generally a slow starter anyhow; it usually takes me a few miles to get really warmed up and rolling.

A few miles further on, I had a nagging sense of being hungry in addition to generally lagging, and it was soon clear that at least a little sustenance would be a Good Idea.

My route had carried me past a local Chinese restaurant in a tiny strip mall.  It seemed the perfect opportunity to get a snack so I pulled in and leaned my bike against the front of the building. 

Thanks to COVID the restaurant is currently configured for take-out orders only, but no matter: it was a lovely afternoon and there was no reason not to plop down on the sidewalk and prop my back against the building as I waited for my order, and then as I ate.

While I was waiting, a fellow happened by.  “Where you headed?” came the query.  “I’m training for a cross-country ride next summer.  Gotta start getting in shape now, to have any chance of actually making it happen.”

He asked a few questions about the bike, then asked “Retired?”  “Yes”, I replied.  “Me too.  I’m 64, but had to retire because of cancer.”  I wished him well in his fight- I lost a sister to cancer in 2020, and another to childhood leukemia before I was born.  Cancer sucks.  “I’ve been clear for five years now”, he said.  I hope he stays that way for the rest of his days.

After finishing my snack, I opened my fortune cookie.

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Even with some food in my belly I was more aware than ever feeling like there was nothing in the tank, no pop in my legs.  I slogged through the remainder of my ride.  This is concerning: if it takes three days to recover from a short, relatively low-stress training ride, how will I cope with spending 93 days (75 or so of them riding) on the road?

On arriving home and looking more closely at the bike, the proximal cause of the problem became clear: my rear tire was almost flat, and probably had been all day.  Perhaps I picked up something sharp last time out, that has worked its way into the tube and started a slow leak.  At least it’s an easy fix.