Reliving my youth….kind of

The bicycle is a rite of passage for every young American- particularly the little boys.  It's our first taste of freedom; our first glimpse of the power of mechanical force; when we first breathe the thrill of speed.  Once you master the art of riding a bike, the world seems instantly smaller.  In a moment you can travel farther and faster than you have in your entire life.  It's an amazing thing.

I have two young children who just this last spring discovered that freedom, and frankly I'm a little jealous as I watch them fly out the door in the mornings and hop onto their bikes.  They're free.  They're exhilarated.  They're young.

Last week I ordered myself a bicycle. 

I'm very overweight and need to change that.  Traditional exercises, such as running or calisthenics are difficult to impossible for me due to some previous joint and spinal injuries, as well as simply being too heavy.  The bio-mechanics of body are badly distorted.  Walking is difficult.  Running is out of the question.

When faced with the decision of how to best rehabilitate my human machine there were two reliable, low-impact choices- biking or swimming.  I don't have ready access to a pool, but I do have two kids who love their bikes and whom I love to spend time with.  Tooling around the neighborhood on a bicycle seemed like a pleasant way to both get in shape and to spend time with my children while they're young enough to still want Dad around.

My bike arrived today.

I knew that it would be essential for me to assemble it and ride it immediately.  Any delay would simply make it easier for me to ignore it and not make the change in my life I so need.

So, after a fairly long, and somewhat physical day at work, which already had me pretty tired, I unboxed the sturdy beast- designed for off-road use and sporting massive 29-inch wheels.

I'm a big guy.  I needed a big bike.  This thing is big.

After fumbling a bit due to a complete lack of instructions of any kind, I had the bike assembled and ready for a road test.  The first ten or fifteen minutes were spent adjusting the wheels, finding the right height for the seat, tightening loose bolts, and just generally getting it road ready.

Once I was satisfied that everything was in order, I hopped on the bike and sped off down the street- the wind in my hair, the hum of new rubber on the pavement below me. I was a twelve-year-old again.  I was free.  I was young.  The world got a little smaller.

…..or not….

The last time I rode a bicycle was 1992; eighteen years ago.

In the time since I last jumped onto two wheels and pedaled off into the distance an entire generation of children have been born, taken their first steps, started school, learned to ride bikes themselves, entered high school, learned to drive, graduated from high school, and are at this moment choosing furnishings for their college dorm rooms.

My not-riding-a-bike-ness is old enough to vote.

What really happened is that I lumbered up onto my new mechanical behemoth and struggled to keep my balance. 

I wobbled.  I strained.  I inched slowly forward, only to lose my balance and fall to one foot long enough to stabilize myself and try again.

For forty-five minutes I struggled, sweat, and shuffled.

Muscles I hadn't used since the Clinton administration began to cramp.

And then….

And then I found the rhythm.  I rode my new bike.  I zoomed forward- gravity doing most of the work as I careened down the hill in front of my house.  I made a u-turn without killing myself and began up the hill.

About 10 seconds later I was spent.  I climbed off the bike and walked it back to the house.

My inaugural ride lasted about thirty seconds and left me spent, wheezing and exhausted. 

But, I rode. 

And what's more, for a few seconds I actually enjoyed it.