Bugs and Breathing

In through the nose: out through the mouth.

It's a breathing technique that always makes me think of the spin classes that DW and I used to attend at the Y, more than 20 years ago, in the Merivale Mall. (Wow, it's hard to believe it was that long ago!)

Our instructor would ask the room, full of sweaty cyclists, how we were doing about halfway through the class. She'd advise us to count our heart rate to ensure we weren't overdoing it. And she'd remind us to control our breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

That breathing technique is even more important when you're on an actual road bike in the summer. With all sorts of wee beasties buzzing around, you want to keep your mouth closed, using it only to exhale.

Sadly, I didn't use that technique on Wednesday's ride.

I almost chose not to go out. When I finished work, I was going to hop on my bike and do a long ride, hoping to get in at least 50 kilometres. But when I saw that the wind was blowing at nearly 30 kph, I decided to wait until after dinner, when the forecast showed that the wind was going to die down.

Dinner came later than we had planned. I was grilling a marinated pork tenderloin and vegetables while DW had put some sweet potatoes in our Instant Pot. By the time dinner was finished, it was 7:00, and I was beginning to think that by the time I had waited to digest my meal, it would be too late to cycle very far. Perhaps, I told myself, I would just get on my spin bike.

But I knew that if I were to wait a sufficient time, I might not even feel like getting on my spin bike. It was better, I told myself, to get on my road bike and take a leisurely pace. I left my family to clean up after dinner (I had, after all, prepared and grilled the tenderloin, as well as the mixed veggies) and changed into riding clothes.

By the time I was in my driveway with my bike, it was just after 7:30. I had about an hour and fifteen minutes until sunset, and an extra half hour before it started to get dark. But I wasn't worried: I had lights on the front and back of my bike and a set of sunglasses with yellow lenses that helped brighten things in low light. They'd protect my eyes and still allow me to see.

I have a new regular route that I take as my 'short' ride. I take the most direct way from my house to Manotick, and then I ride Bridge Street to River Road and head south, all the way to Roger Stevens Drive. I then cross the Rideau River and head north, along Rideau Valley Drive, back to Manotick and onward to Barrhaven.

The ride usually takes me about an hour and 45 minutes, depending on the traffic lights in Manotick and Barrhaven. I had just enough time to cycle the route before it got dark.

By the time I crossed the Rideau River, on Roger Stevens Drive, the sun was close to setting. I don't usually stop to take photos on my ride, but the light was pretty special.

When I return to Barrhaven, I take a varied route from the ride out to add a few more kilometres, making the round trip 42K. On one of these detours, I go down a hill where I really pour on the power and approach a speed marker that shows me how fast I'm going. The limit is 40 kph and I always try to reach that speed, if not slightly exceed it (I think 43 kph is my record on this street).

I saw the bug about a second before I inhaled it.

By sprinting down the hill, I felt that I needed more oxygen than my nostrils can take in. I ignored the rule to breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.

It was a big bug. I'm not sure what it was: a fly, a beetle, or even a bee. But I certainly felt it hit the back of my throat with a solid whack.

I tried to cough it back out but it was too far down my windpipe and it felt as though the critter was fighting to get out. I was worried that it might be a bee and might sting me. I'm allergic to bee stings and a sting to my throat would be really bad news.

I grabbed my water bottle, which was filled with lemonade, and began to chug, hoping to wash my intruder down to my stomach, hoping that it wouldn't go down my windpipe and into my lungs. After several large gulps, I could still feel the bug in my upper esophagus, possibly stuck in the sphincter.

And it was still moving.

I continued riding, continued coughing, continued swallowing, continued drinking.

By the time I reached home, it was about 9:20 and I could still sense something in my throat. I put my bike away, went into the house, and went straight for something to eat. If food couldn't push the bug down, I had a problem.

Fortunately, the Portuguese tart did the trick. It was a tasty way to dislodge the stuck bug. Hopefully, it enjoyed its sugary, final meal.

In through the nose: out through the mouth. I've learned my lesson.