October 10, 2015

• This morning, Mike and I loaded our bikes onto the bike rack and drove up to Mountain Home Creek to join a group of friends for a breakfast ride.

  It was just barely light, the sun hadn't yet cleared the top of the ridge when our group started up the old road which is now a trail. Karen, Dean and Patty live in Angelus Oaks, so they start down the mountain before dawn to meet us at the bottom, and ride up the hill with us. Dean and Patty ride a tandem and Karen has osteoporosis, so they aren't very fast on the descent but they're all good climbers. I'm the weak link on the climb so I usually set off a few minutes before everyone else so I can warm up a bit before hitting my stride. Even then, it's all I can do to stay with the group of guys who are between the ages of 58 and 78. Patty''s husband is so strong that he can pedal her up the hill on the tandem faster than I can go on my own. Thankfully, Dean had a cold today so I could stay with them when everyone else pulled away from us.

  We were just past the half-way waterfall when I heard/felt something in my left ear. I was hoping it wasn't a bee AND I was hoping it would go on its way without further exploration of my vulnerable orifice. I soon realized that it was most certainly a stinging insect and it was not finding its way out of the maze that was my ear. I began simultaneously swatting at my ear and dismounting. Somehow, I wound up on the ground with my helmet flung off, shrieking like a girl. The more I swatted, the more he stung and burrowed into the safety of my ear canal. Patty and Dean heard my distress and came running back to see why I was lying on the ground, writhing, and making unintelligible sounds. I managed to explain that I wasn't having a seizure but merely had a bee in my ear. Patty looked into my ear and began exclaiming "Oh my God, f!@k!! F!@k!! " She valiantly dug in my ear with her fingernails and after several attempts was able to get a grip on him and pull him out, all the time carrying on with the expletives.  We had barely recovered our wits when Patty started exclaiming that she was being stung under her shirt and on her butt. We collected my scattered gear and hightailed it away from the site.

  I gathered my composure, packed my ear with a baking soda paste, put my helmet and hydration pack on and wobbled on up the trail. The climb, never comfortable, was now a throbbing, orgy of misery. Several times I considered asking Dean & Patty to let Mike know that I'd turned back when they regrouped at the 3/4 of the way bench; but my reputation of hardy studliness was at stake so I persevered. Fifty yards from the bench, I saw Mike riding down to meet me. Dean & Patty had told the story and he came down, visibly concerned (which will stand him in good stead). His sympathy dissolved my resolve and I whimpered, "I'm going home."

  He followed me down the trail, instead of racing ahead, as he normally does.

  I spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself. A good ride ruined, no breakfast at The Oaks restaurant, and a throbbing ear that felt the size of a cauliflower but showed no sign of injury, all gave me license to take a nap with Garfield and a good book.

  • 9:27 pm
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