Anxiety on the bike trail

Part of the road in English Park.

On Saturday morning, my husband and I decided to bike in English Park, the park that runs along the river that I wrote about last week.

Last summer was the first time we rode our bikes in the park, and we biked on the road that circles the playing fields. It was good exercise, but we were literally going in circles. And we had to watch out for cars and walkers and slow down periodically for the speed bumps.

This spring, there’s a new road leading from the old part of the park to the new, still largely undeveloped part of the park. That’s the road we took Saturday.

The new road is gravel set in asphalt, a little rough, but smooth enough. It winds under a train trestle, but there’s a shelter built underneath to protect walkers, runners and bikers as they pass under.

Me before the coughing started.

Further back, the road narrows and is made up of dirt and gravels. It winds along beside the Staunton River, and soon all we could hear were the sounds of the water, birds singing, the wind in the trees and our own voices.

The road is fairly level, so we made good time, slowing down periodically to enjoy the sights. We were surrounded by green: trees, bushes and weeds. Sometimes rocks rose to our right, part of the river bluffs.

Then I started coughing.

I have asthma. My doctor calls it of medium severity, but I think I do pretty well most of the time. I use a maintenance inhaler, Advair, and I have a rescue inhaler.

That morning before we left for the park, I used my rescue inhaler because I was feeling a little wheezy and exercise sometimes brings on an asthma attack.

I didn’t use the Advair, and I’m sorry to say I had not used it the night before either.

I am usually a compliant patient in that once I’m on a medication, I take it as directed unless I have a problem with it, at which time I call the doctor.

But I’m different with Advair. It’s silly, really. I am supposed to take one puff twice a day. Easy enough. But I have to rinse my mouth after I use it, and sometimes I don’t think I have time to do that. So I skip a dose. Yes, that’s pretty silly.

Back on the trail in the park, we had biked through a section where something—blooms, pollen, something—was heavy in the air, and I started coughing.

We stopped and I drank some water. Still coughing. I was out of breath, and I just couldn’t bike any further. I took out my inhaler and told Larry I’d stay where we were and he could go on.

He rode further down the road.

You might wonder why I would have him go ahead of me when I was starting with an asthma attack. It’s because we’re used to them. I cough, get short of breath, use my inhaler, and get back to normal, and everything’s fine.

He rode out of sight, and I shook my inhaler and squeezed. Nothing came out. It was a dead inhaler.

By then, tears were running down my cheeks from the exertion of coughing, and my hands were shaking. I was coughing so hard that I thought I would surely throw up.

We were at least a mile from the truck, and even if I could get there, I didn’t have another inhaler. My extra was at home.

With no option of an inhaler, I decided I’d try to calm down the attack on my own. I let the coughs come out, and then I pushed my bike slowly back up the trail, towards the truck and towards some shade.

I drank some more water.

A photo I took while I was trying to calm down: rocks and trees.

And I tried to concentrate on the sounds around me. I don’t often get to a place where I can hear no human sounds, only nature’s sounds. I decided to savor them.

By the time Larry got back, I was calm and could breathe better. I was grateful that it had been a mild attack.
We rode on back to the truck, and I made it fine, though I was still coughing a little.

And when I got home? Yes, I used the Advair. It’s not a quick fix, but it’s time I started using as directed to help stave off these attacks.

Will I check my inhaler before the next bike ride? You know I will.

What’s the hardest thing you have to be willing to do to maintain good health?