The other day I dragged out the exercycle. It’s one of those “under the desk” models — I sit in a chair and pedal away.

I got into position and put on Marie Kondo’s “Sparking Joy” on Netflix, so I could be inspired to reduce my clutter while unable to do so. A win-win, in other words.

I try to do some sort of exercise every day. Usually I walk, but this was a frigid day, and ice was everywhere.

As I started my journey to nowhere, I reflected that, two years ago, I would have been walking around the track at the YMCA with my husband Paul on a day like this. Since it was the weekend, we’d probably go out for lunch afterward.

The pandemic has changed things.

We bought the exercycle in the fall of 2020. We’d realized by April of that year that we probably wouldn’t be returning to the Y anytime soon. Luckily, we could walk outside by that time — although there was a freak snowstorm in May.

In fact, the day I got the call, on March 15, 2020, that school (I’m a school librarian) would be shut down for the foreseeable future, Paul and I had walked outside. The Kennebec River Rail Trail was sufficiently ice-free from the downtown Hallowell access point. Later, we went to the Liberal Cup for lunch.

And that was that.

And here we are.

Pedaling in the same place, even while we can see on the odometer that we’ve gone 5 miles.

I am grateful for the exercycle, though I’d much rather be outside walking. The Y was inside too, but at least I could people watch as I got my steps in. Since the track circles the weight-training area, there was always some kind of show going on.

Though the pandemic is bearing down on its two-year anniversary, I’m still amazed at how normal some parts of life can be, while others have totally changed. I should say, at least for those of us who feel the need to take precautions against the virus. I can be at home doing the same things I have done for the past 30 years.

But when I step out the door, I’m wearing a mask.

Paul and I were walking outside through early December 2021, but if we went somewhere out of town, we needed to bring our lunch, because we are not eating indoors in restaurants right now. I can think of nothing worse than eating in the car, but if it’s bright and cold and the weather is walkable, I do it.

I can’t remember ever eating a meal in the car before then, unless burgers at the A&W Drive-In in Somerset, Massachusetts, in 1968 counts.

What’s the problem with the car? I like ambiance. There is no atmosphere in the front seat of an SUV, even if it’s parked in front of a glorious Maine seascape.

I hope, when this is over, I never to have to eat in the car again.

The pandemic has changed the way I pay for stuff. I’ve always used my credit card for groceries, because I wanted to get out of the store as quickly as possible. That sentiment has doubled during the pandemic, especially at the beginning, when I didn’t want to touch money.

Then I began using credit for everything, not that I was going many places. I stopped carrying money at all. Now that I’m back at school full-time and getting around a little bit more, I have found it wise to carry a few bills and coins. When you need a bottle of water and a vending machine is the only option, that George Washington is your friend.

I now regularly listen to sounds of nature as I fall asleep. The “Headspace” app offered free memberships to educators in 2020, and I took advantage of it. One of my favorites is called “Monastery Drizzle,” which is a recording of rain falling on the tin roof of a temple. I even used it during a recent hospital stay, where it proved invaluable. Our stress and anxiety have been exacerbated by the pandemic, but they are not going to disappear entirely once we’re on the other side.

There are “bedtime” stories and meditations on the app too, but I like my nature sounds.

One thing Paul and I did during the summer that pleased me very much was dining outside. I have always been big on the al fresco experience, but sometimes Paul has been a little reluctant. Not during a pandemic. A few times we were just able to eat our lunch before raindrops started falling. Another time, rain looked imminent but we took our chances. It didn’t matter. I do all the cooking at our house (Paul does the dishes). Anytime someone else makes my meal is a good time.

Like many people, I have been doing a lot of shopping online. And streaming.

I have hiked more, and in more dubious weather. I have simultaneously ordered more takeout and cooked more meals.

I have noticed that life is quieter. Time stretches longer than it did before. I sometimes feel lost; other times, incredibly grateful. I am not the same person I was on March 15, 2020. Are any of us?

Liz Soares welcomes email at lizzie621@icloud.com.

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