I didn’t think so. I mean, with your legs pumping, even gently, and your heart pushing that blood around, your brain’s likely to be in the path of some of that blood and enough oomph there should make for sufficient wakefulness. Unless, of course, you’re suffering from a woeful sleep deficit.
One weekend this past summer, Edie and I drove to Pennsylvania to visit her folks’ cottage. It was a nice relief from the rigors of a work schedule to relax in the bucolic surroundings of the rural Pennsylvania countryside. We’d been up late that week riding in fine summer weather during the coolest part of the day – the evening and hadn’t quite caught up on our sleep. A weekend in the country would take care of that.
But with one thing and another we didn’t get the chance to leave town until late in the evening and by the time we arrived after the 3-1/2 hour drive it was past midnight. And well past that before we set up our sleeping bags on the rear deck, well up in the trees and enjoyed a cool night under the stars.
Edie’s parents, however, keep farmer’s hours, early to bed and early to rise, and were awake with the sun. Not wanting to be rude guests, we followed suit, at least on the ‘rise’ part, and tried to look bright and cheerful at the breakfast table. I imagine we succeeded, since Edie’s Mom, rather than suggest a post-breakfast nap, instead proposed a bike ride along a nearby creek on a newly-created bike path. Trying to look bright and cheerful, we agreed.
Since Pennsylvania is fairly hilly and Edie’s Mom is a beginner cyclist, we agreed to cycle to the start of the bike path in Brockway, where she’d meet us by car. From there we’d have a gentle pedal along the creek to the town of Ridgeway where we’d stop for lunch. You’ll notice most Pennsylvania towns have names that end in ‘way’, like Philadelphiaway and Pittsburghway.
Our timing was impeccable. We arrived at Brockway just moments after Edie’s Mom had unloaded her bike from the van. We had a nice, relaxing cruise down the bike path, passing only a few others along the way. At Ridgeway we toured the local antique shop, bought some old post cards and enjoyed our lunch in a lovely old rural restaurant, where the waitress (not ‘your server’) calls you ‘Honey’ and no one takes Visa.
By this time, the heat of the day was upon us. As was the aftermath of lunch. You know the feeling, that subtle lethargy that creeps up on you and makes you think of big southern verandas with hammocks swinging gently in the breeze. Well that hammock was swinging back and forth, and back and forth as I chatted with Edie, chatted with her Mom, lazily rode a bit ahead, mesmerized by the meandering creek and the trees overhead and sound of fine gravel on the trail and the next thing I knew was this funny sense of falling.
Bam! Down I went. Right into that gravel at all of 6mph. I jolted awake. The ground was sideways and 3 inches from my face. My right elbow hurt a little, as did my right hip. The bike was lying on top of me. It looked at me funny, as if to say: ‘what was THAT?’ ‘I mean, I can understand when you run me into chuckholes you can’t avoid on the way downtown, and even when you run me into car mirrors and streetposts when you’re not paying strict attention. That I can forgive. But what was THAT?’
Edie and her Mom pulled up. Concern poured from their voices; embarassment flowed from mine. ‘What happened?’, they asked. ‘I think I fell asleep’.
Marty Cooperman normally attempts to ride while awake, especially when others are there to notice.
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