After two rounds of doctors' visits today, we mercifully got home around 1:30. Hubby accompanied me on today's visits, but he was generally worthless. (I will compose a post about my experience with men and their emotional issues, but tonight it would only be snarky.)
We were walking up the street from his mother's house (her car is easier for her to get into and out of than my SUV, and besides it has a license plate designating her as disabled), and before Hubby could say anything about what we needed to do this afternoon, I said, "I'm going to ride my bike."
I was quite crabby and tense when I left on my bike, but I used the ride to push myself physically instead of breaking down emotionally. It worked wonders. I'm proud to say my fuse is a couple of millimeters longer than it was when I left home. I may still blow, but perhaps the physical exertion has helped delay it for a little while.
It was one of those picture-perfect days that must have been created specifically for cycling. (Or at least some other outdoor activity.) Beautiful blue skies, not a cloud in sight, cooler temperatures with just a hint of a chill. Perfect. I rode 36 miles and it was exhilarating. Refreshing. Restoring. Calming.
I needed that.