Gotta Keep Moving
Saturday morning. 6:00 AM. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the day ahead. Today is a ride day.
As a caregiver, I often find that cycling for caregivers is not just a form of exercise, but a way to recharge my spirit.
Cycling for Caregivers: A Journey of Renewal
I haven’t been on the road since last Saturday, when I was in Stuart, FL — spending time with my daughter and grandkids who were vacationing over Easter week at the Marriott on Hutchinson Island. That ride was a 28-miler, and when I left I had no planned route. Just a general idea and an open road. That’s the whole thing with me. I’m not riding to get somewhere. I’m riding to feel free. To feel adventurous. Especially on new turf. We had booked ourselves into a Best Western in downtown Stuart — one of those old drive-in style motels, two stories, well maintained. Simple and perfect.
So here I am, still horizontal, and now it’s 6:10. I stop thinking and just get up. Kitchen. Coffee. Gear together.
About six and a half hours of sleep last night. Good enough. Deb always interrupts my sleep pattern — I have to go out to the living room and get her settled into bed, usually around midnight. Last night was no different.
Stuff is packed. Two water bottles, each half-frozen solid. They’ll melt on the road and I’ll have cold water the whole way — one of those small things that matters more than it should. I tell myself I’ll head to the Pinellas Trail trailhead on 102nd and decide from there whether I go north or south. Sometimes the spontaneity is the whole point.
Leaving the house, the light of day is just creeping up — dim, soft, like someone turned a great overhead light down to its lowest setting. The birds, though, are fully committed. The cacophony builds as the photons increase, and somewhere out there the day is already in full swing for every living thing that isn’t still in bed.
Bike on the rack. Adidas bag in the back seat. Just me, myself, and I.
At the trailhead, the Trek Emonda is set up and the Garmin is ready to roll. I turn south onto the trail. The plan, if you can call it that, is to drop down to Gulf Boulevard, then head north and just ride. Before I even clear the trailhead, I hear my rooster friend in the yard adjacent to the trail — same guy, same post, greeting another new day like it’s his personal responsibility. I am already feeling fine.
Down 113th Street and over the causeway bridge — off the road, not on it. You don’t ride that bridge in the lane. The lanes are narrow, and when you crest the rise and start the descent, a vehicle coming from behind fast is a very real threat. So I take the pedestrian side, no debate.
Off the bridge and onto Gulf Boulevard. The Garmin reads 19 mph. Eighteen to twenty is my cruising zone — that rhythm I love, working comfortably below threshold, legs moving, lungs open, mind going quiet in the best possible way. I am so glad I got on the Emonda this morning.
Here is the thing you need to understand.
As a full-time caregiver, this ride is like a drug to me. Not an escape exactly — I will go home and the caregiving will be there, unchanged, waiting. But for these hours on the road, something shifts. The weight doesn’t disappear. It just becomes manageable. The body moves, the mind follows, and for a stretch of miles on a Saturday morning, everything makes sense in a way it doesn’t always back at the house.
That is what this is really about. That is why I ride. And that is what BicycleHigh is built on — the understanding that for some of us, the bike isn’t a hobby. It’s how we stay whole.
It ended up being an anxiety-relieving, blood-pressure-lowering, clarity-giving 37 miles in the Florida morning sunshine. https://solidtothecore.com/category/endurance-training/
Sometimes that is all the prescription you need
Stay Capable Ride Strong Bpositive (like my bloodtype)