The Bike Ride 05/23/2011
Saturday, May 21 I found myself up early (rare on a day off) and getting my cycling gear together. I like saying that, "gear" instead of stuff! I'm a cyclist now and I can use all the appropriate language. I actually became a cyclist many years ago on Harrison St. in Westover. I begged Dad to remove the training wheels from my hand-me-down bike. I was ready, no doubt! Dad didn't deny me the moment, he took the training wheels off without a word though I'm sure he knew what I was about to realize. I plopped my derrière on the seat, gave my self a shove and headed down the dirt street. I'm guessing I made my solo run for about 30-60 seconds , during which I felt I was riding on wings instead of bike tires. At least, that is what I remember before I crashed. This was the first of many wipe outs I would experience in my cycling career. Wounded, I walked the bike back to the garage where Dad was working on something. Once he noticed me standing in the dooorway, Dad smiled. "So, how was it?" "Okay," I said. "But maybe I better get a band-aid." I dashed off upstairs in search of a band aid for my new sports injury (another athletic term). This past Saturday, I had signed on for a 25 mile bike ride for CASA. I was sure I could be ready by then. Unfortunately, my back had other plans,(still getting those sports injuries) so I had to settle for the 10 mile ride instead. Just like that day so many years ago, once I started pedaling, I was sure my bicycle had wings. I enjoyed the ride as much as any other and was able to help raise funds for a charity as well. That was a great ride, even if it wasn't what I planned! JKH Post Script: Before Dad left for work that week, he put the training wheels back on, I didn't have to ask. 2 Comments |
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