i cannot ride a bike.
okay. i am physically capable of it, but much like swimming, in the past it has only made me feel out of control and floundering. like at any moment i'll fall over or stop being able to breathe or just cease to exist completely. i believe, as a child, i enjoyed riding my pink bike up and down the hill of serena road, but my adult life contains no memories involving bicycles.
the last time i can even remember riding a bike in the last five years was to fly's memorial day picnic a year or so ago. all the fly girls decided it would be nice to ride over together, so i unearthed the purple mountain bike emma lovingly donated to me, which i immediately relocated to the junk corner of our apartment. when i arrived for the cheerful, girl bike ride to the park, i could not understand why my bike wouldn't work. apparently it was because having flat tires and a derailed chain makes it slightly difficult to ride.
after some friendly repairs from my knowledgeable friends, we rode off. my purse kept interfering with the rotation of my legs. i was wearing a dress and flashing my underwear everywhere. i kept almost running into people and cars. and i struggled to keep up on the unbelievably short ride.
all in all, it was unpleasant.
this memory is the only thing that came to mind when my equally lovely, though more international group of german school girlfriends said we should participate in the school's bike tour of potsdam. i suggested i skip this particular activity. i said, i will come to the spaziergang on tuesday instead. i averred the certainty of my death, should i attend.
they made me go.
i like these girls so much that i agreed to go.
i am not sure that anyone understands what true horror riding a bike inspires in me. it is not natural. it is not easy. it is not something i remember, something i never forget. it is not like riding a bike. my heart was pounding as we went to rent our bikes for the day. this time i wore shorts. this time i had a backpack. this time i came prepared. but still i felt like i was at the first day of kindergarten. the man appraised me and said unfortunately he didn't have any little bikes left. he said, instead i will give you one with extra breaks. i was truly horrified.
and then this is what i did.
after days of worrying and years of avoiding this exact activity, i sat on the seat of my bike and i pedaled.
and i rode.
and i rode and i rode. and we rode through the forest and to castles and to a beer garden and through the town. we rode on streets and through fields and across bridges and down cobblestone streets that shook me like a jar of marbles, clacking and loud and abrupt. and rebecca and i sang motown songs and i laughed and i pretended my hair was long and beautiful in the wind. and then i went fast, what seemed to be impossibly fast to me. we rode for maybe three hours, with some little stops, and i felt happy, i felt like summer.
and that was it. i rode a bike.
i honestly believe that for a period of time, i was incapable of it. or at least not strong enough to access the parts of me that could. now here i am in berlin and i rode a bike. berlin asked me to ride a bike. i said okay. it seems like a great success to me. it is something that most everyone else learned a long time ago. i learned it, but i did not feel comfortable in it.
today i felt comfortable. i am learning things, i am growing. i am returning to the things that were supposed to come naturally, but which maybe i lost along the way. things like breathing, relaxing, being happy, taking care of myself, living fully. i am going.
it's just like riding a bike.
