Like Riding a Bike

I am currently sitting on my couch a little hot and sweaty and stinky. That might be TMI, or maybe just a deterrent for any future house guests, but it's true. My heart rate is taking a steady slow down, and not just because I'm watching the Virginia Tech Hokies beat up on Pittsburgh, but because I decided to take most of the third quarter to air up my tires and go for my second real bike ride in about 20 years. 

And It. Was. Great. 

I am the proud owner of a mint green Electra Townie bike that I got for my birthday a few years ago. It was my very first bike to have gears, zero streamers, and a complete lack of cartoons on it. I'll admit to being a little sad about the lack of cartoon characters, but happy that I've reached the maturity level where the streamers had to go. 

The day I picked my bike up from Richardson Bike Mart, I had visions of triathlon training dancing in my head. I just knew this bike would only last a few years because I would spend day after day and night after night just wearing it out. It was time to get to know a good repair shop after the hundreds of miles I'd put on those fancy pants gears! Right after I learned how to use them that is. 

So I unloaded my bike from my Ford Escape so excited to finally put the Sport in Sport Utility Vehicle, and set my new weight loss buddy on my drive way. I sized up my new toy:

Extra wide seat

High handle bars

Step through design

Everything a 435lbs girl could want. 

So step through I did. Very suddenly I  realized I hadn't been physically on a bike since I was about 13 years old, and here I was 17 years later with my visions of Century Rides suddenly shrinking down to, "Do I know how to get out of my drive way?!?" Isn't remembering how to ride a bike supposed to be like, well, riding a bike??? 

Spoiler alert, when you are 435lbs, nothing is like riding a bike. Or, maybe as I learned that night, everything is. 

I did make it out of the drive way that night. I made it down our back alley (about three houses in length), and around the corner to the next street over, and I had to stop. I had gone a sum total of about 50 yards, half a football field, and my quads were on fire. I just physically couldn't push myself any further. My extra wide seat was pushing so hard back agains my pelvis that I was actually in pain, and I had silently walked myself through the signs of cardiac arrest more than once in my five minute ride. 

See, when you're 435lbs, not only are you having to push down through that weight, but every time your legs rise with the peddles, you are also pushing through probably 80lbs of pure gut sitting on your thighs. When you lean forward slightly (even on a high handle bar bike), you have the weight of you back, and the girth of your chest pressing on your lungs making it difficult to breathe deeply enough to control your heart. When you're 435 lbs you worry about how you look sitting on top of a dream that is being crushed with every cycle of your now flattened tires. 

So I got off. I looked at my roommate with shame in my eyes and admitted I just couldn't do it. Erica, being the eternal optimist said, "no, you can do it, we just mark this as your next goal. Next time we make it one more house". 

I politely smiled and nodded and walked my bike home knowing I would not get on my bike again any time soon. 

I had been handed a key to my weight loss prison only to find out that someone had changed the lock. 

My mint green Electra bike collected dust and cobwebs for three years. 

Until a couple of weeks ago. A couple of weeks ago I got this wild idea. It was about 75 degrees outside and everything in my screamed that I needed to be out doors! So I looked Erica in the eyes and said, "I want to try riding my bike again". 

I grabbed a towel in the garage and dusted the neglect off of my dream bike wondering if this time around the story might change. My hope and anxiety rose as we put all 26 pounds per square inch of air in the tires, and lifted the kick stand. I had lost 88lbs, and it was time to try dreaming again. 

I swung my leg around on the bike and sat easily on the saddle. What's funny is it seemed like my bike had shrunk and my seat had grown. It wasn't difficult at all to mount the bike, and the handles seemed perfectly placed to keep me in an upright position. I had asked Erica to jog beside me just incase something happened and I took a tumble. I was still 324lbs and you can do a lot of damage when 324lbs meets concrete. So with every confidence that my friend would be beside me, I pushed off. 

Next thing I know I am 13 years old again soaring through the neighborhood with very little effort! My legs are moving with ease. My lungs are breathing deeply the fresh air, and rather than moaning and groaning, I. Am. Laughing. 

I started riding faster than Erica could run. 

I waived at the people in the neighborhood rather than wishing I could hide from them. 

I'm living my dream. 

I'm normal. 

I went about three quarters of a mile that day because Erica was on foot, and I was taking pity on her. But I could have gone further. My quads still ached, but it was because I had worked them, not because I had abused them. My lungs burned, but only because I started to wonder how fast I could make myself go, not because I was moving at all. 

This morning during the third quarter of the Hokie game I looked at Erica again and said, "I want to ride my bike. This time you ride too. I want to see if I can go a full mile, but I only want to go a mile because I need to have a goal and achieve it, not immediately belittle it". Erica understood my fine line I constantly walk between hope and shame and jumped up to get dressed to accommodate. 

And we rode. 

We went one mile, up hills and down them. I learned the difference between 1st gear (for the steep ones), and 3rd gear for the flat road. But we rode. And I laughed. 

And I began to dream again.