Notes Challenge #1

I was recently talking to a friend of mine about all of the stuff we save on our phones, telling her it was ridiculous how many "notes" I had. Since so many of my ideas for writing hit me while driving, Siri is super helpful in her wilingness to add a note without being judgemental. Apparently, I am not as willing to show my appreciation by actually referring back to what she has stored for me. In a moment of honesty, my friend and I revealed how many notes we each had. I went first sheepishly reporting my 49; and, was then blown away by her thousands! She covered a far larger array of categories with her recipes and places to visit with no mystery to what each entry was. I read aloud "Riding a bike afforded a youngster a certain type of freedom." We both looked at each other and laughed. I claimed to have no idea where I was headed with that. She challenged me to write a blog post based on that line. After pondering the words for a bit, I had an idea of what the general substance of the post was going to be, but no thoughts on how I was going to pull it together. Challenge accepted though!

Riding a bike afforded a youngster a certain sort of freedom. There was a sense that I could get farther away and do so more quickly than walking would have provided. I remember pedaling that bright green bike, singing "Fly Like and Eagle." The exhilaration of the wind whipping through my hair, long before the days of helmets and other safety measures, spurred me on to move my legs even faster. The way I cringe now watching cycling events, for fear those clusters of racers will collide and bring each other down, makes it even more incredulous that I thought my skills would join those ranks. Maybe I would meet up with other people on the neighborhood streets, join a friend on a paper route or just fly solo. On more than one occasion, I lost the focus to remember not to have my left pedal down when turning left, and vice versa, resulting in some quality time spent picking gravel out of one knee or another.

It was the freedom to go nowhere in particular, but still get to claim I did something. I went for a bike ride. Where? Around. Fresh air and exercise left little more information necessary back then. Once I could drive, I rarely chose two wheels over four. Life has a way of coming back around though and I eventually found myself pedaling again - helmets on, with the sound of the kids' training wheels until the day we were just eight tires spinning on the road. We were always looking for routes around the neighborhoods that were far enough to call adventures and exercise, but traveled in loops close enough to home in the event anyone's legs got too tired. The mission was never really to go anywhere, just something to do. Then before we knew it we had newly licensed drivers, eager for a different sort of ride, ideally solo.

My husband kept cycling though, riding faster and farther. Invitations were extended and turned down without much consideration. This was his hobby and I pretty much only concerned myself on the times when I begrudgingly had to drive rescue for flat tires. I was moderately envious that he had found an activity that was both enjoyable and healthy for him. No attempts were made to understand how he managed to ride twenty plus miles in eighty plus degree weather. Afterall, this was the same man who could pretend to enjoy using the elliptical in his off season.

Every now and then I would think about how that wind in my hair felt and longed for the youth associated with it. I tagged along for some short rides with my husband, but felt totally demoralized when he would branch off to do another fifteen miles as I headed home. Something changed last summer though in that constant state of awareness that our lives were not what we had planned for as we tried to buoy each other. I started talking to my husband a litle bit more about bike rides and tried to appear eager about accompanying him - I was hoping for a "fake it 'til you make it" situation.

I remained less than enthused about actually moving my legs, but found the goal setting to have some intrigue. My burning thigh muscles served as a reminder that my body could still do stuff and I had actually exercised. I had earned a little snack and an afternoon with a good book. There was a bit of a thrill the day I made it ten miles. 

It was never about the destination, because we never had one. It may not have even been about the journey either though, admittedly, just the distance. Oh, I suppose it was also about which photo and song I was going to use for the Instagram post. He still had his solo missions, but there were new couple goals too. I spent the duration of a twelve mile ride wondering if I wanted to suggest we try to make a thirty mile trek to celebrate the year of our thirtieth anniversary. 

In 2023, Ken had wanted to ride sixty miles with a friend of his celebrating the same milestone of turning sixty, but both ended up havng surgery that season instead. I thought maybe I could pose something similar in value. We did hit twenty miles and had high hopes of completing our challenge by November 11 (our actual anniversary). 

Between football season, both his refereeing high school games and attending the Buffalo Bills home games, and the fickle Central New York weather, we did not hit our thirty mile goal. The spinning spokes that had once been such a solitary escape did become a sort of coming together for us though. I realize we can aim for thirty-one miles this summer, and somehow that seems as crazy to me now as it did a year ago, and not just because the bikes are still in the basement. Stay tuned...

Would not be fair to not mention that Ken and our daughter rode ten miles in the Ride for Roswell last year. Their goal is twenty this year!