Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Escaping the Pandemic

Perhaps you have tried during the recent months to be positive, patient, even philosophical, but it just has not worked well.  Since mid-March, society seems to have been slogging through the swamp of Covid-19.  Are you growing tired of reacting to constant cancellations; weddings, celebrations, travel plans, social gatherings, and even memorial services?  Do you feel constantly reminded that we are in the grip of an unprecedented, unpredictable, and so far unstoppable, pandemic, and will be with us for some time yet?

If you are anything like me, you may have tried to tell yourself that this is an opportunity to accomplish some of the items on your “when I have time” list.  But without the press of deadlines, I find myself using excuses borrowed from the growing list generated by those seemingly trying to lower expectations. iI hear, “We just have to make the best of it."

As a person with Parkinson's disease I understand that phrase and I think I know what it takes to have a positive attitude and focus considerable effort to combat overwhelming circumstances.  Nevertheless, for me at least, I need a plan, an extraordinary event that I can look forward to with anticipation.  I need confirmation that life offers more than waiting for the end of isolation and nurturing the distant hope of a cure or vaccination.

It was not without some fear of cancellation, and further discouragement, that I set out on my Spyder (like a motorcycle but with two wheels on the front) to see where the road would take me.  Even though it was only a 5 day trip into the interior of British Columbia, with time in the Rocky Mountains, which form much of the jagged border between BC and the Alberta, it was an escape, a breaking free of the imprisonment of the past four months.  I loved it, all 3700 km of it.  Even when it rained for 3 hours straight on the way from Prince George to McBride I found myself smiling.  I did not complain, but rather found myself laughing, when it took me 15 minutes to peel off my sweat-soaked T-shirt after a day of riding in 33-Celsius degree temperatures.  The mini-vacation left me rejuvenated.  It was pure joy. 

The uninterrupted “helmet time” was soul-refreshing.  Hours of riding in silence, feeling the cool shade of endless forests, taking in the snow-peaked mountains, it left me in awe.  There are indeed experiences much more overwhelming than the distraction of a coronavirus.  I encourage you to give it some thought.


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