Wednesday, March 27, 2013
My first bicycle was a used yellow green heavyweight. My parents bought me a bike that I could grow into, but I couldn't sit on the seat and reach the pedals, so for years I biked standing up. When I got the bike in second grade, I didn't know how to ride. My oldest brother put me on it and promised he would walk along beside me, but after a few steps he gave me a push as I pedaled down the hill alone. I had that bike until I was in high school and I rode it everywhere. Before moving to Africa when I was in college, I had a racing bike that I rode fifty miles at a time, always scaring my mother. Later I owned several bicycles, including custom racing bikes, as I competed in biathlons and triathlons. I would ride a hundred miles a day for a week. I had a serious crash during a triathlon and went by Life Flight to the local trauma hospital, with no hope of survival. I completely recovered, and although I don't want to race again, I've got that old desire to get back on the bike. I still have my beautiful racing bike, but now since I'm older and want a different pace, I think I'll search for a city bike. I think it should be a Robin's Egg Blue, and I want a basket so I can bike to the market.