I am turning 50! There are so many things I want to do.
Cycle up Tagaytay, ride down to Batangas feeling the mid-afternoon sun, legs spinning, feeling the touch of strain, the pleasant tightening of slightly tired muscles, feeling the smooth asphalted road rushing by, smiling at school children in their afternoon recess, enjoying the clean air of farmland, celebrating the arrival at the Calatagan welcome arch, refreshed now though still pumping away, anticipating the cool sweet buko welcome drink of the still unnamed unselected cozy and friendly resort where we would spend the night. I arrive tired, perspiration dried up now, forearms dark from the day in the sun, face sticky. But exhilarated and talkative, recounting the deeper bumps of the road, the nicely banked corners of Batangas roads. Today we hit another hundred kilometers. Not too long. Just enough. I was about to say “not bad for a man of …” but I knock on wood.
Today I talked to a colleague who said that her husband also road biked. I was excited to hear of a fellow cyclist. But no, she said, he no longer bikes, ever since his heart operation.
Friday night I was scared. I felt a little lump at the base of my balls. Shit! I said. Lance Armstrong and his testicular cancer. Why cancer? Because a good friend of mine is going through his fourth round of chemo. A few months ago I told him about my new love for cycling. He told me that his doctor said not to exercise yet for six months. What would I do for six months if I cannot exercise, I asked myself, appalled. I am not a buff or exercise freak, far from it, but to not walk or bike at all made me afraid of being that sick. Do I want to go to the doctor? In the shower I shook my head no. I would like to bike to Tagaytay first, to go to the beach at the end of this month, before I face the reality of test after test. All of a sudden, the real stories of my friends and relatives who live or lived through cancer became even more real. Would I try every cure in the land, would I fight it out eating when I would not feel like it, try to live a normal life? Would I madly rush to write my goodbyes to the world or just live quietly with my kids until the end comes. But Lance Armstrong fought his cancer and won 3 or 4 more Tour de France championships. Banish the thought of cancer at least for this weekend, I decided. We rode up the mountain, did not get to Tagaytay ridge, but we made the effort. I forgot about the lump. Today in the shower again I remembered. I did not feel it anymore! Praise God. Maybe I did not try to look for it too hard.
How long will I be able to ride the bike? Will I ever get to a hundred kilometers or a hundred and sixty? Half of me wonders with a little sadness. The other half, the mortally immortal half says: ”does not matter man, enjoy it while it lasts.”
