I mean, what would I really miss? A workout? I could run. Fun? Yeah, not so much. Hanging out with friends? None of my friends had bikes anyway. I could honestly say that I wasn't missing out on much. But rationalizing and calling it logic or no, I knew deep down I was making excuses. Truth was, I was giving up on a thing I'd previously wanted to do.
I was never too embarrassed that I didn't learn to ride a bike, and the older I got the less it came up. It was a self-deprecating story to tell. The story of how I gave up. It'd come up casually then someone would ask, "What? You really don't know how to ride a bike?" And I'd respond, "Funny story! I was eight, and I still have the scar..."
San Antonio, in an effort to offset the amazing, over-indulgent food and slow pace the city offers, instituted a bike sharing program downtown. And for the first time in my life, I've felt a little left out in my inability to join the crowd. So, at thirty-three, I bought a bike. 24", pink, mountain with a low back and shocks (might be the first pink thing I've willingly owned). I went out for the first time in over twenty years last weekend. I went out again today.
|How I roll now|
Who'd have thought? I'm working on my turns after having decided to never get back on the bike, that the thing has defeated me. Might seem silly, but in this woman's world, it's encouraging. If I can ride a bike, I can do something I told myself I couldn't.
Speaking of which, I am getting close to completing my novel, which is another thing I couldn't stop telling myself I couldn't do. No, I thought, I'd get sidetracked. I work two jobs; I have too much to do; I don't have time for such a concentrated effort; I don't have the attention span; I don't have the story. Go figure. Now I do.
I'll be posting updates about future writings and the novel soon. In the meantime, I'll be working and riding. Have a beautiful week!