Ride

my bike

Thursday, Skyline Blvd, Oakland

Something behind the hands that shift gears shifted.

I want to ride. I am comfortable riding alone, from home even. Reclaiming.

Three hours, from home to Hayward Shoreline Regional Park at the Hayward end of the San Mateo Bridge, along the old salt flats, on the levies and return.

I needed the bay, the water along side of me, like I needed the redwoods Thursday. The experience was similar. There was no effort beyond.

Sunday, Bay Farm Island Ferry launch, Alameda 

My bicycle history ran past my inner eye. I guess dad taught me to ride. I don't see him, but who else? My brother, Joe, taught me about multi speed bicycles. I rode all over the Bronx. Well, at least the East Bronx.  I didn't know you could go further till I met a New Yorker on the Oakland Yellowjackets that rode all over the place. I was pretty young when I left NYC, I guess I would have figured it out if I stayed. 

The day I did leave with Rich, June 25th, 1977, we had our wedding presents from my dad on the van, two new Fuji Dynamic 12's! They came across country with us, Rich's two guitars,  camping gear and art supplies. I rode in San Francisco, with Sara in a child carrier. Moved to Oakland and eventually found the YellowJackets in 1998, riding with the best light ride coordinator of all time, Chris Blease. I never wanted to 'advance' because he was great to ride with. Rode Rich's 12 speed, mine had been stolen, till Rich helped me buy my carbon Trek, on Father's Day 1999. What a guy. I advanced. Rich was always my biggest supporter. If I hesitated getting going he would tell me to GO RIDE! It was good for my mental health, still is, and a benefit to anyone that knows me, even if they are not aware. 

When my dad died, I lost my connection to my family in ways I didn't anticipate. I was a mess. Racer Fred got a call from me. 'I need help getting back on the bike'. I had no idea what I was getting into except Fred was a teacher, OB1, old school racer. My riding today comes from the skills he taught me. I never road 'off road' with my road bike till he got me too. I never rode a fixed gear, I never raced before, I had never descended Redwood Road without needing to use my breaks. I got my wings. 

I learned to ride alone when I worked with Scott Saifer at Wenzel Coaching. LSD. Long Slow Distance. Ride slow to get fast. Mostly I learned to ride alone. You can't keep pace with anyone else when you are doing your ride. It was a break through. Then I learned to ride in a fast pace line with the PokeSlows. My sprint, and endurance, improved too. 

When Rich was sick, my friends on the first Sunday ride kept me peddling. They thought I was keeping them peddeling. It was hard to put myself at risk, I felt everything was a risk, the anxiety was high, so these casual rides were what I needed more than anything. When Rich died, Pat Albin was my night in shining armor. Meet me here. Meet me there. He said I was keeping him in shape. I couldn't ride in a group. I couldn't ride from home. Not happy in Oakland. Why would I be. 

Last week, Tuesday, the shift began. My brain said, LOOK! You are ready. By Thursday I was out the door and up to Skyline, alone. Saturday it poured cats and dogs but today I got out and did another ride alone, from home.

Oyster Bay, San Leandro

Even when I ride alone I am not alone. The people in my life carried me when I needed carrying. The non-bicycle friends, and family, even more so because they helped with the stuff that allowed me to set aside some time to ride. I was all over the place, but unfortunately not peddling. I was in the emotional crapper big time. Everything I had was gone or going away since before Rich got sick, the financial meltdown, loss of business, house at risk, then Rich's diagnosis. Rich died. Business is in question. The house is slipping away in one fashion or another.

Hayward Shoreline

So what changed? After the 'non-36th anniversary', my birthday, the one year anniversary, something got under my skin. Life. While I am alive I want to be alive. Walking Summer helped me to meet and make a really wonderful new friend. My wings began to unfurl again. This is what all my friends have always done for me. It is nothing new. I reach out. They reach back. Always. I am very fortunate.

Fun on the gravel