Smooth Move, there, ExLax

Smooth move, there, ExLax

“Smooth move, there, ExLax".  A silly phrase from my youth.  No, I am not constipated, nor is this post about bodily functions, which, I suppose, is a bit of a surprise given my propensity for discussing such matters.  This is, instead, about the “good" problems that sometimes come up when you are able to lead a healthier, more active life. 

Walking helped me take off the excess weight before and after my surgery two years ago.  I still enjoy walking outdoors 15 to 20 miles per week.  Bicycling has also become an important part of my life. A little over a year ago I resumed bicycling regularly, something I hadn’t done since I was 15 years old.  I have put on more than 2200 miles since then, a number that flat out astonishes me.  I now own two bikes: a hybrid commuter bike with fenders and a cargo rack and a lightweight, single speed, belt-drive “go-fast" bike.  Well, my commuter bike is in the shop to get a new rear wheel since I keep managing to break spokes due to fatigue from hard use, according to the bike shop mechanic.  Thus I have been using my go-fast bike for the past several work days to commute to and from the train station.

On the way home from the train last night I got a flat tire.  Since I was close to home, I walked the bike the remaining few blocks and patched a puncture wound from having run over something sharp on the road.  I pumped the tire up…. and the inner tube exploded because I hadn’t installed it properly.  A foul utterance might have escaped my lips.  I put my spare inner tube on, pumped up the tire….and the tube exploded again.  The phrase “Smooth move, there, ExLax" came to mind, along with some other magic words. There I was, sweaty and a little dirty, with mosquitoes buzzing around my head and feeling distinctly unhappy about being 0 for 2 on bikes available for my commute the following morning. 

Upon further reflection, though, I realized how fortunate I am to be experiencing such small inconveniences in the broader context of being able to lead a healthier, more active life.   It should be noted that, for the time being, I chose to overlook my rather spectacular dumb-ass quotient regarding inner tube installation and put myself in a more positive frame of mind.  I borrowed my son’s crappy old mountain bike, after having pumped up the tires without incident or the expression of expletives, and pedaled happily into the train station.  In 20 minutes time I moved 5 miles under my own power, listening to the birds sing, inhaling the scent of a summer morning, and feeling so very lucky to be alive and well.

RP