As many readers know, in early December 2023, Felkerino was in a hit and run while cycling. Since then he has been recovering and healing.

Our 2024 plans dissolved after his crash. Instead, we focused on medical appointments and managing the crash’s aftermath. Felkerino wrote an excellent summary about his experience here. 

While Felkerino mended, I made my best effort to wake up every day and keep going. 

In my assessment I thought I was doing okay, even though after Felkerino’s crash I essentially hung up my bicycles, went outside only when necessary or to accompany Felkerino to doctor appointments, slept horrendously, and spent parts of every day crying. 

I’M DOING FINE, I told myself. Felkerino was the one hurt, not me. I’M DOING FINE.

I didn’t understand this until it happened, but even though Felkerino existed in the center of the storm, I was more affected by our circumstances than I realized. I do not write that to elicit sympathy, this is just how it went for me. 

I keep a journal, and a week after his crash, I wrote that I wanted to zip outside my life, as if it were a costume I could remove somehow. I wanted Felkerino to be well.

Death had sent me a postcard, I wrote. Told me it would be back. I kept observing my life from afar, trying to understand its current state and figure out what to do with everything gone so awry.

My life to this point, I realized, had been great. How had I ever thought my life wasn’t great? We were limitless.

But after December 2, I lost confidence. Lost confidence in the present. Lost confidence in moving forward.

Despite intense awareness that circumstances could have been far worse, I was at a loss. Adrift amid the loss of control (always imagined, I realize) and inevitability of death. It was scary, disconcerting, disheartening.

Our friends have helped us through this time in different ways. Without them, I don’t know where we would be.

A neighbor couple helped us with regular meals, their nutritious food pouring drops into the void inside me week after week. They literally let me cry on their shoulders.

Two other local friends have regularly checked in and invited us to meals at their place.

And still another friend of mine who lives very close to us must have seen a need that I didn’t and couldn’t see for myself.

One night she texted. “I’m at the community center playing pickleball with my two friends, we have extra paddles if you want to come by?” 

“I know nothing about pickleball,” I answered.

“That’s okay. Come over!”

I don’t know if she was aware, but my friend was offering me an essential gift. Something to get me out of my head and back to the present.

Fortunately, Felkerino was mostly self-sufficient soon after his crash, but he has required a lot of rest and recuperation. Initially, I wanted to stay inside and hover over his healing. I was irrationally worried about what would happen if he was out of my sight. Realistically, my hovering was not doing either of us any good.

Just as he had done/had to do, I needed to modify my own life approach.

But I didn’t want to change.

I wanted things to be the way they were before the truck hit him. Wanted to go back to our bike rides and plans together.

But no time machines showed up to make that happen so I hesitantly texted my friend that I’d meet her for pickleball.

While the name sounded undignified, the novelty of pickleball piqued my interest. A new pastime might be worth considering.

I had no desire to ride my bike recreationally, and I had worn my right achilles out trying to run through the stresses of the last couple months.

Yet until my friend reached out, I had been unable to widen my aperture to consider trying something like a racquet/paddle sport. 

Compared to cycling, pickleball carried no baggage. Compared to randonneuring, the time commitment was minimal – although I suppose that might be true of many sports when compared to randonneuring! I had never done it, but maybe I could learn! I could easily dip my toes into pickleball and still be there to support Felkerino. 

Since it’s most often played in groups of four, it was also an excellent way to start low-stakes socializing and engaging with new people.

It was an ideal distraction and potential new hobby. You can’t play pickleball by yourself. Why not try this new silly-named sport?

So with that January invitation, I took the first tiny baby step back into my life and took an equally tentative step toward something new.

Friends are the best.

I’ve been playing pickleball steadily through the ups and downs of 2024, and hope to continue writing about what it’s been like to take on this new-to-me activity. So please join me! And if you’re local, let’s play.