A shiny red tricycle was my first set of wheels. I can still remember lifting my feet from the pedals and letting gravity pull me to the bottom of the driveway. From there my childhood included a light pink Huffy with training wheels, a hot pink cruiser with a basket and banana seat and then a black Trek mountain bike.
In those younger years, my bike represented more than a healthy activity, it was all about freedom, friendships and, in the summertime, family outings after dinner. When I think about joy, I think about the wind on my face while racing the neighborhood kids down Brooks Avenue.
As you can expect, the bikes of my past are long gone. They disappeared with my interest in riding them – well, the mountain bike became transportation until it disappeared from a bike rack outside my dormitory in college.
New bike
A few years ago, we moved back to the Twin Cities from Chicago. I’d gained considerable weight in my mid-twenties, and biking seemed like a good way to lose it. The old road bike I had proved cumbersome, but I made it out for a few rides. While I was at it, I reluctantly decided to give mountain biking another chance, but I messed up my leg my first time out – never even made it to the trailhead. After the surgery, I felt a little down, so I went to my local bike store’s clearance sale to salivate over the road bikes I was too gimpy to ride.
I feasted my eyes upon a dead-sexy Specialized S-Works Ruby Pro that just happened fit a 4′ 11″ woman (freakishly small frames are hard to come by, but the deals can rock). My husband sighed and said the price was too good to pass up. I looked at the original tag and realized that amount could pay my mortgage for half a year. But I really knew I had something special when half a dozen sales boys fawned over it as I left the store.
The hubby teased, “You know you’ll have to live up to that bike.”
Um, no shit.
After one ride on that chariot, I fell. Hard. I became an overnight enthusiast.
New era
I’m not delusional; I know that bike is still way better than me. I’m not the fastest rider, but – as my high school cross country coach said – I have a lot of heart.
My Ruby opened doors. In the summer of 2009, I decided to try racing. Try it, I did. Track. Road. Mountain. Cyclocross. Ice biking. I’ve sampled them all. In 2010, I plan to increase my participation and see what happens. While I’m probably too old and too late for any knock-out performances, my goal is to keep improving.
Today, I nearly forget that fitness happens to be one of the perks of riding. For me, it’s more about experiencing that childlike glee anytime I want. I can’t say that about anything else in my adult life. Being a cyclist helps keep the depression at bay. It challenges me, makes me more disciplined and encourages me to push myself further than I think I can go. Whether I’m on the trainer, the track, the trail or the road, riding puts me in an almost-meditative state.
And, perhaps, the greatest thing is the community. There are hundreds of people who like riding and racing their bikes; they gather for training rides, races and charity events. I think my childhood self would agree that the only thing better than riding and racing bikes is doing so with friends.
