The Joy of Riding My Bike

I’ve read in a few different places that none of us need to “find” ourselves; our true selves have always been inside of us and we just lose sight of that along the way. With rules, with social “norms,” with expectations, with roles, with who we think we should be. Whenever I feel like I have lost myself, I try to remember my childhood. What did I like? What did I act like? What did I want?

Something I recently rediscovered is the joy of riding my bike.

My daughter needed a new bike this year because she outgrew her old one. She picked out a women’s bike, black with hot pink on it. Soo her! And of course, a new hot pink helmet. Her exuberance over her new bike was contagious. She was giddy with excitement and couldn’t wait to get out there!

I remembered what I felt like as a kid on my bike. It was my first taste of freedom! I could go just about anywhere, for pretty much as long as I wanted - well, until I got tired or hungry or it got dark out. I could pretend it was a powerful, fast motorcycle, or a beautiful horse. I could ride fast or slow, through side streets, or down grassy hills at the park. When I was tired, I could sit on the sidewalk or on the grass, and my bike was just there, always ready when I was. Me and my bike went on so many adventures together, of course made much more interesting by my imagination!

Watching my daughter ride off on her bike gave my heart a twist. Happy to see her discover the joy of that freedom, but sad to miss that freedom for myself.

I suddenly realized, this is ridiculous! I am still that girl who loves bike riding! So I put down the dishcloth and got out my bike. After a couple of rusty, wiggly starts, I quickly found my balance and off I went.

I’ve walked our neighbourhood streets hundreds of times, but there is something about biking them that is so different. Obviously, I can cover a lot more ground much quicker. So I had to make more decisions: do I turn left or go straight? Should I turn right? Do I want to avoid that big hill or head for it? And none of the answers I picked were right or wrong; they just were. I wasn’t a mom, or a wife, or a daughter, or an employee. With each rotation of the pedals, those steel bindings loosened and fell off, clattering on the asphalt behind me.

I was 10 year old me, loving my bike and the freedom it granted me.

#biking

#exercise

#mentalhealth