As a youth with a paper route, I traveled everywhere via bike. I loved riding a bike. I hated riding my bike at 6 in the morning on a Sunday delivering newspapers, but I loved my bike. I was great on a bike too. I was not a trick doer or anything, but I could get moving. I remember when my mom let me first take my bike further than my elementary school. I thought I was a the coolest thing ever. Those rides to AM/PM felt like absolute freedom. This was before girls, before I was self conscious, before high school, even before the awful trials of middle school. It was just a boy, his bike, probably the wind (at least in my poetic memory of it), and all the awesome dirt dunes of Woodland before houses went up everywhere. The memory of it is thick with boyhood nostalgia.
As I got older, I started to hate traveling by bike. I would get so sweaty and a sweaty Kyle is not a cute look. So, eventually like most things of boyhood, the bike collected dust, took up space and eventually vanished from my life and honestly, the joyous memories faded as well. I became wrapped up in girls, school, theater, work and all of the drama that a teenage life offers. There was just no more time for the boy, his bike and that poetic wind. There was no more of Woodland left for me to explore in a Goonies like fashion. Now, I have this serious loathing of people on bikes. The pretentiousness of Davis bicyclers leaves me fuming on a regular basis. They do not obey traffic laws, or even laws of common sense. I have witnessed Davis bicyclers nearly run down animals, small children and flip people off even though they were in the wrong. It has soured the idea of bicycling for me.
Well, as my knee issues persist to varying degrees many people have suggested bike riding as a low impact workout and I am nothing if not willing to be open minded. Plus, Martina appears to very much have a fondness for riding bikes. She has an extra one and right behind our apartment is a bike trail. There is just no excuse for not giving it a shot. Today I did. I got on a bike for the first time in at least a decade, probably longer and honestly, I enjoyed the hell out of it. I need a bike of my own, or at least a wrench so we can raise the seat, but I had a hell of a time. We biked roughly 5 miles and we were gone around an hour and I cannot wait to do it again. It was so relaxing riding with the river on our left and just above the street, so we were not in traffic. There it was again, a boy, his bike, the wind and a new world to explore. Except this time, I am not exploring it alone. I have this awesome companion pushing me, encouraging me and keeping me smiling the whole way.
About 10 minutes into our biking it all came back. This giant windfall of nostalgia hit me and there I was 12yrs old again, just enjoying the world. The cliche when you have not done something in a while is "it is like riding a bicycle." Riding a bike is one skill that just never goes away. Sure, I was a little wobbly at first and it took me a few minutes to remember how the whole mechanics of my body were supposed to move. But when I did, boy did it feel great. I, of course, did not pace myself and got pretty wiped towards the end, but not so much so that I hated it. The entire time I just kept thinking "Why did I ever stop this?" At what point did the idea of a boy, his bike, the wind and the exploration stop being awesome? Probably never, I just got distracted. I need to remind myself that disconnecting from the electronic world is great. For a shade over an hour, I did not look at my cell phone, or bother with anything. It was just about being out in the world and having fun. As long as exercise is not work, I think I can stay with it.
Anything that makes me feel the freedom I felt when my mom let me ride my bike to Main Street and beyond, is something I need to revisit. Things are a struggle again in my professional life. I am tired of being broke. I am tired of feeling like I am a failure in various aspects and I am tired of stressing out over things that I cannot control. So what can I do? I can peddle. I can get on that bike and take off. You know, just a boy, his bike, the poetic wind, and the world he has yet to conquer. Who knows, maybe there is a buried treasure and a pirate ship out there waiting for a 32 year old boy to find it.
Oh that picture is not the bike I am riding.
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