With no Hotter ‘N Hell Hundred to get ready for this summer, I just rode shorter routes, and my mileage wasn’t all that great. I managed 440 miles in August and 491 miles in September. Little did I know what was waiting for me in October.

The first half of the month saw me ride 200 miles. My last ride was on the 16th, a Friday morning where I took off intending to ride 30 miles, but a howling wind, combined with the fact that I didn’t feel very well, made me cut the route off and just do 20 miles. That night, I got sick, and the next day was diagnosed with COVID.

If you are a lung cancer survivor, getting by on 1.5 damaged lungs, there’s a greater than zero chance that COVID will hit you very hard, and it did me. I fought it at home for a week, then admitted myself to the Dallas VA Medical Center. Just two days into my stay there, my oxygen levels crashed, and I spent the next eight days in ICU. I got out of the hospital the day before yesterday, and it’s obvious I have a long road to recovery in front of me. I weigh 170 pounds. I haven’t been that light in almost 50 years. There seems to be skin hanging off of bone everywhere I look.

And just standing up gets me out of breath. Just walking across the house was almost more than I could accomplish that first day home. I did a short walk yesterday, and a quarter mile walk or so today. I’m thinking I’ll try getting on the bike tomorrow. It’s a safe bet that any rides I do right now are going to have to be pretty short and slow. I can’t think of a better lung function rehab though, so we’ll see how I do.