Wednesday, August 26, 2009

...just like riding a bike.




At the urging of a book I wanted to get for a friend, but instead borrowed for myself from the library, The Lost Art of Walking, I dabbled in pedestrianism. The first walk was a long one, three or four miles. It felt good to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. It was almost the end of June, the weather was picture perfect on the days it wasn’t pouring, and I had been on the couch too long.

I went for a few long walks like that, exploring the surrounding neighborhood and nearby college on foot and quickly decided I wanted to go faster. I pulled my bike out of the shed. Dexter, I called it: a 24” boy’s mountain bike. Fire engine red. Red Cross red. Candied apple red. And though it was undersized and heavy as hell, it’s the bike I bought last summer in an effort to not deal with the parking annoyances of Albany when gas was $4.50 a gallon and I was sufficiently chubby to supply pedal power. I immediately loved it, and had worked my way to taking it up to school at SUNY twice. Last September not only was it starting to get too cold to ride (I didn’t know about gloves or arm warmers yet), but I was riding stupidly and took a spill. Thankfully nothing was broken, but in addition to road rash, I bashed my left knee into concrete – and in such a way that made it hurt and click just as badly as my right knee had been for years, after so much reckless kicking as a field hockey goalie in high school. That was pretty much it for my riding last season.

I don’t know how to explain it but something about riding that bike around in Ewing, the town I lived in from birth to the summer before third grade – and now again at *cough* thirty, that sparked something in me. Maybe it was all the sunshine, maybe it was the awesome loop around TCNJ (I still call ‘er Trenton State in conversation) but I think I fell in love. Soon I was plotting courses in Pennington and had designs on pedaling my ass to Washington’s Crossing State Park. I usually wouldn’t go out for a ride until my mom was on her way home from work so that my dad wouldn’t be alone for too long.

My dad has cancer. Stage four metastatic pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed on Oct. 31, 2007 and he’s still fighting today. Most of the time, I’m home with him, helping out when he needs me (he doesn’t get around too well, long story), running to the store or taking him to doctor’s appointments. I’m not working right now, so that’s sort of my job – and while I’m happy for it, getting out on the bike is a perfect way to channel my stress into something good and healthy.

It also didn’t hurt that the beginning of July saw the start of the Tour de France, and that amazing dude I had heard so much about, someone whose name rhymes with Vance Barnstrong, was coming out of retirement at 37 to ride it. Finally! Watching those guys glide over the Alps was pretty awesome, and learning about stage races, strategy, etc gave me something to focus on – something that felt like freedom instead of claustrophobia. So I’ve been out riding and riding. Finding roads I’ve never been on, state parks I had never heard of and just pedaling my butt off as a form of exercise, stress relief and adventure.



After much studying, and hemming and hawing over my personal finances, last weekend I bought a new bike. I decided on a hybrid-style bike from Specialized. I really like the stability of thicker tires, but wanted them to roll fast on the road. So awesome – right out of the gate it cut three minutes off my lap time around the college. I named it Dingo, cause it doesn’t looks gender neutral and I want it to eat mah bay-bay (haha.. chubby girl’s weightloss joke).

Unfortunately, there was only room for one bike on the back porch (that’s what she said!) so after stripping Dexter of a few items which were transferred to the new bike, he had to be put out in the shed. It was then that I understood why a cyclist has feelings of guilt when he brings home a new rig – like he’s cheating on his old bike with this newer, different model. I think after a while I’ll donate him to the Trenton Bike Exchange or World Bicycle Relief. They’re both worthy organizations that do things I believe in.. I think I’d like to help locally – and Trenton needs all the help it can get. I think I might volunteer over there first and check it out. They need someone with a truck to transport bikes from Point A to Point B.

I have a truck, I can transport.

Which dovetails nicely into something I've been thinking a lot about. I believe that bicycling has helped to make me a better person, although I'm not certain just how.. Now, this is not to say I look down on other people - no, never.. it's not anything like that. It's just made me realize that life is about the journey just as much as it is about the destination.

If you actually took the time to read this, I thank you. I don't know what this blog is going to be about, a little bit of everything, I'm hoping.. Tomorrow I'm going to write about my experience volunteering for the Livestrong Challenge in Philly this past weekend.

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