How to Survive a Family Reunion - Day Three

By the fifth day of our visit to Minnesota, I felt exhausted. We stayed in the guest apartment in the complex where my youngest sister lives. The apartment was beautiful and spacious, and well equipped, except for one thing, the bed. It was a double bed, so old that to keep from sliding to the middle, I would have to tuck my nightgown under the mattress on my side! Since Don and I constantly bumped into each other and woke the other up, I moved to the sofa. The sofa was quite comfortable except that my frame was too tall to straighten my legs. For five nights, I only accumulated around twelve hours of sleep. Every morning my sister and her husband would ask me how I slept, but Don answered for me each time, “One of us slept very well.”

On the fifth morning, my no-nonsense sister, who had been a captain in the Air Force, announced that we were going to go bicycling down by the river in St. Paul. They had a whole garage full of bicycles, so they loaded them into my sister’s pickup truck, and off, we went. The parks by the river couldn’t have been more beautiful. They were so tropical and lush that they reminded us of Hawaii.

My sister pulled a bike off the truck, asked how much I weighed, and then adjusted it for my weight. She adjusted the seat, which had to go low because my left hip locked tight from the horseback riding the day before, oh the pleasures of growing older. I could barely get my leg over the bicycle even with her help, and I had no idea how to operate such a sophisticated riding device. Several levers on the right side controlled the front tire, and the same devices existed on the left side to control the back tire, but in reverse. I felt some trepidation since it had been twenty years, since I had ridden a bicycle. Don, sixteen and one-half years my senior, felt even more apprehensive. We voiced our concerns, and my “of course you can do it” sister replied, “There’s nothing to it. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Great, I thought, as I looked at the foot-holder, and wondered how I would ever get my fat-toed casual shoes into it. Well, it was a perfectly beautiful and temperate day, perfect for bike riding, and my sister had said that the ride was only two and a half miles. My twelve-year-old nephew led the way, followed by my sister, then me, Don, and my brother-in-law. I felt a little shaky at first, but soon found that I enjoyed the ride immensely. The main problem I had seemed to be the hills and turns. Other than that, it was a snap! I couldn’t keep the gears straight in my head from the front tire to the back tire, and ended up walking up the first hill with Don right behind me. Going down the hills was exciting and fast, unless, of course, it included a turn.

We traveled along between eight and fifteen-miles-an-hour. After fifteen minutes, I was soaked with sweat, and suggested that we should stop and take a drink of water. Don looked as if he was about to expire. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out that the ride was longer than two and a half miles! I began to worry, since my sister once left two men behind in winter survival training when they couldn’t carry sixty-five pound backpacks and walk on snow shoes through four-foot snow!

After a half hour, we reached the end of the trail and reversed our direction to return by a different route. It took us on a wood-slatted path, with no railing, through a swamp with water on both sides. It terrified me. My sister screeched her breaks and stopped dead still in front of me. I banged into the back of her bike, and thought I was going to end up in the water. I couldn’t see what the problem was with the high marsh grasses. Around a bend came a mom and dad pushing a baby stroller. I prayed that we’d get out of the swamp, and stay out of the swamp without any more hair-raising encounters.

The next path included giant bushes of “itch weed” on either side of a mud path, which had been under water until recently. It was slippery and I felt extremely unstable. The sweat poured into my ears and down my neck and face and completely soaked my clothing. I could imagine what my bare skin would look like covered with welts! I focused straight ahead, and determined to get through the messy trail without falling.

Many people biked that day. We had to stay in single file to make enough space for oncoming bikers on the trail. An hour had passed when we took one more water break. Don positioned his bike against a tree, and sat down exhausted in the long grass. I gazed at my sister with concern as she quipped with resolve, “It’s only one more mile.” I didn’t know if I should believe her or not!

Don mounted his bike once again, and he followed my sister this time. I followed him and my brother-in-law took up the rear. My brother-in-law warned, “Tap the breaks on this hill so that you don’t get too much speed. There’s a sharp bend at the bottom.” Don did just what he had said and successfully made the turn. I did the same thing, but when I reached the bottom near the bend, two oncoming bikers appeared out of nowhere riding two abreast. I tried to turn more sharply, but wasn’t skilled enough to make a sharp turn without falling off the bike. I certainly didn’t want to hit anyone. The woman screamed with fright as I came so close to her that I nicked her bike handle. I lost my balance, and now had two choices, a bed of large limestone rocks on one side of the path, or bushy itch weed on the other side of the path. My heart stopped for a moment. I imagined my face all broken and bloody lying on top of the rocks. I pictured what might be behind the bushes of itch weed, and didn’t know if it was water or not. My heart raced with panic, and then the muscle memory righted me, or, more likely, the hand of God reached down and steadied me.

My sister, her son, and Don were now a quarter of a mile ahead of us. I knew that my military sister wouldn’t stop. I caught my breath, and directed myself to peddle as fast as I could, which I did until I caught back up with them, and then raced past all three of them to the truck. By the time I climbed off the bike, I was shaking so badly that I couldn’t steady my hands. Dynamic bike riding is a lot different from a stationary recumbent bike like the one I ride for an hour every day at home! I thanked God for not allowing me to kill the woman on the trail, or kill myself. The sweat poured down my arms and legs, and then the sky opened up with thunderstorms.

Don and I climbed into our car, and headed back to the guest apartment. He said he had a report to finish, and so I made myself a white wine spritzer, put on my nightgown, and congratulated myself that I had survived the family reunion. “Here’s to family,” I said as I raised my glass, and then gulped it down, and laid down for a well-needed nap.