Why Ride?

Exercise is a four letter word to me.  I do not like it one bit, and would much rather sit on my sofa with food in my hand, watching television until I fall asleep.  Another option is to do the same thing with a book.  I love the sedentary lifestyle, but it does not love me.  I am 100 pounds overweight because of what I love.  I am not fat because of some childhood trauma that caused me to have an unhealthy relationship with food, and I do not have a metabolic disorder nor am I taking meds that make me gain weight.  I am fat because exercise is not something I love or even like, or am all that familiar with.

That is why I ride.

If you were born in the decades earlier than the '90s, chances are very high that one of the very first things you learned to do as a child was to ride a bike.  I can't remember not having one.  I remember the raw fear of learning to ride my first bicycle, when my dad took off the training wheels for the last time, pushed me down the road holding onto the back of the seat and then LET GO!!  I was both horrified and exhilarated.  I was riding a bike and it was fun!!  The kids on our street formed our very own bike club, and we would ride "around the block" which was a bit longer than a block, and tougher than I remembered it being.  We would get together and wash our bikes and it was nothing to ride to the neighborhood store with no fear of being hit by drivers who were more concerned with sending a text from their iPhone than looking out for cyclists or pedestrians.  I rode with my sister and tried to ride with my brother, but he was too cool to hang with us, and he had a TEN speed!  A lot of the time, I rode alone, and that was both fun and a bit dangerous.  I suffered my first and only concussion after my foot slipped on my wet peddle and I hit the asphalt.  This was in the days before helmets, although I am still lax about wearing one of those.  I was also bitten by a white German Shepherd while riding to the store.  He ran out of his yard, bit me on the leg, and ran back.  He never even barked.  The scar on my left knee was the result of a biking accident when my dog Champ ran out in front of me, and I fell onto a jagged rock.

After all of those injuries, one would think I would give up the two wheel machine of disaster.  I could not give up something that brought me so much joy then, and brings me so much today.  Two of my most memorable presents have been bicycles.  One summer, my mom and dad gave me a shiny new blue three speed for no reason at all.  It was not my birthday, nor Christmas.  They just bought it for me, and presented it after one of my softball games.  I loved that bike, even if it was the one I was riding when I suffered the concussion, dog bite, and jagged rock to the knee.  Fast forward about 40 years to my Trek.  I don't plan to suffer concussions, dog bites, or jagged rocks, but I do plan to make many memories.

At least twice a week, I get to pass by the refurbished train depot in Jacksonville that offers a respite for riders, and a glimpse of what makes our little college town so special.  If I go the other way toward Weaver, I get to ride past this most gorgeous bamboo forest.

 

When you get to see this on a daily basis, the word exercise becomes a three letter word----FUN!!