My cookie made me a bicycle and I rode it! I was totally scared and rode the brakes too much, but I did it. He was so cute rushing home from his 20 mile ride to whisk me and my new bike to the baby trail. As I struggled to make it on the nearly flat surface, he patiently rode behind me and told me how to change gears and where to put my fingers. We even rode across what I considered to be a rickety and harrowing bridge and I didn't get off to walk!
As I grunted and heaved and spat gnats, I kept looking to my left at his little smile. Even though I was cursing and growling, I was on a bike ride with him and it was awesome. He feels totally at home on two wheels, loves it more than anything on this earth. And I am completely terrified. Even going five miles per hour, I was desperately afraid I would tip over and scrape the skin off my legs. How does Corey find so much joy on a bicycle and the woman who loves him find herself so afraid of them? Perhaps a better question is what's wrong with me that I voluntarily participate in a sport where people deliberately step on my calves and pinch my nipples yet I am afraid to ride a bicycle on a recreational trail full of screaming children?
I still don't feel ready to assemble the bicycle and take it out on my own, but perhaps a month from now I'll be braving the three mile journey to work! Maybe I'm becoming like Corey and I will soon grow a foot taller, shed twenty pounds, and have legs like a flamingo. By the end of this summer I will feel totally comfortable in spandex as I gracefully ride my bike to rowing practice and glide along the river like a swan. I can tell!