This is My Bicycle

This is my bicycle.

It is a simple conveyance.  It takes me from here to there, sometimes with lots of speed.  It has special components, a lightweight frame and special handlebars and a computer. It is a fast machine.

I learned to ride fast with fast people on my bicycle.

From pacelines to drafting to pelotons, I learned from the best.  We climbed hills and did speed trials.  I worked every muscle in my body as well as my heart and lungs.  I grew callouses on my palms and learned how to shift my hands to keep them from going numb.  I also learned how to drink from my water bottle at high rates of speed.

I learned all of this on my bicycle.

Yet until I went to Iowa I hadn’t learned what my bicycle was really all about.

This is also my bicycle.

It is a conveyance between places.  In the heart and between minds. A bridge between cultures.  A connector between generations.  A handclasp between faiths, genders and peoples.

I ate ice cream with riders from all over the country and world.  A Baptist church lady passed me a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. It took me to beer tents where I had brewskiis with friends I didn’t know I had. It laid on the grass in the Lutheran churchyard where I enjoyed a slice of watermelon watching Amish girls in their bonnets play games.

This is my bicycle.

I rode it between rivers and up and down hills.  I rode it with people I knew and others I only had met just then. I rode it when I was tired and didn’t feel tired at all.

My jersey was a conversation starter. My helmet adornments were both a signal and an identity. These things all fit together on my bicycle.

This is my bicycle.

While I can be fast on it, climb hills at speed with ease.  It wasn’t until I slowed and stopped that I realized just how far it had taken me.

This is my bicycle.

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