Move. Just not too much.
“Move” is the first cut on the 1957 Miles Davis album “Birth of the Cool.” And that’s what I did yesterday. Move.
Not much, mind you. It’s still just over two weeks since I broke that ankle, though it seems more like two years. But I’ve been treating the fucking thing like it’s made of Waterford crystal and all of a sudden I was sick of its bullshit.
Yesterday’s playlist. I probably should’ve gone for “Kind of Blue,” but I needed to get my head out of that particular space for a while.
So I clomped out to the garage, pulled the rim-brake Soma Saga down from its hook, clamped it to the old Cateye Cyclosimulator CS-1000, and went for a short “ride.”
It wasn’t as stupid as it sounds, probably. I did a half hour in low gears. Three-point-five miles with Miles, for an average speed of 7 big big mph. I was wearing my Darth Gimp boot on the starboard side and a Vasque Clarion hiking boot on the port, which kept me more or less symmetrical. Also, I dropped the saddle a couple cm to allow for a certain lack of flexibility in the wonky bits.
Sure, it felt creepy at first. If you’ve ever broken a bone you know that feeling — “Should I or shouldn’t I?” — about taking the damaged goods off the shelf for a little look-see.
“OK, yeah, right, here we go, show me what you got you miserable motherf. …”
But it went OK. The swelling continues to diminish, I’m seeing more definition in the foot, and with any luck I won’t need that bespoke piñon-and-turquoise peg and a Norwegian blue (lovely plumage) for my 66th birthday.
Incidentally, “Birth of the Cool” is also the title of a documentary about Miles, the man and his music. You can catch it on PBS.
