Backstory / Author

Backstory, first, always. Context is important and all...

So I was the fat girl against the backstop, last in for kickball as a kid, the awkward bitter teenager in theatre and too many AP classes in high school. No summer soccer league for me - too heat-sensitive, said mom (rightly). No skiing (expensive, far away, dangerous), no swim team (expensive, early morning), no track (that was for the skinny minnies; besides, it conflicted with drama).

Image - Big brain, big hips, no prom dates, no romantic prospects. I usually tell people my cheekbones didn't come in until I was 22.

I rode my bike to get around town - only one car in the family, and I've always liked riding anyway. I'd race friends home (them on the roads, me roads/sidewalks/paths as the route needed) and we'd often meet without too much wait-time between arrivals.

The first day of my senior year, I was riding home from school - and was hit broadside by an SUV running a red light at 35-45 mph. The Blazer's bumper put a 1/4" dent in my cro-moly seattube; the impact tossed me up on the windshield, onto the hood of the car, and out into the intersection. I broke both bones in my lower leg (so badly that they couldn't be "set" in the ER, despite the best efforts of the attending orthapedic), fractured my pelvis in two places, and pissed blood for a week (bruised kidneys).

Fast-forward: I'm not spitting on myself (or 6' underground) because I had my helmet on. Four months on crutches, three surgeries, and various metal hardware later - I was walking again. But figured out that if I didn't stay active, my "magic" leg would rebel and tendonitis would re-colonize my right knee.

This matters, I think, because I have a sense of urgency about being able-bodied - and remember what it's like to be dependent and un-optimally-able.

In college, I hiked and rode my bike around Missoula, attempted running but was turned off by some serious eating/exercise issues in my friends/housemates - swore off that kind of disordered conduct. Spent a summer working for the USFS (best shape of my life; also pending heat stroke and nervous breakdown), got in shape, and moved to the fat-as-hell midwest, started grad school.

Years pass, things come up, things go down. I meet, shall we say, some bad people through biking - become too scared to live in my house or go out alone, even in daylight. Stop riding entirely, learn things about managing anxiety/panic.

And then - I meet Dooley. More positive than a newbie kindergarten teacher, more energetic than a sugar'ed-up five-year-old ... this ex-crew member just wants to "go ride bikes!" And with the promise that the MSU women's rowing team has my back, I fall in with a group of women who are supportive - and fast. And I can keep up with them. (Thrift-store Miyata 10speed vs. crabon-fibre, for the win...)

Cue three years of racing collegiate road - through a master's degree defense, the start of a Ph.D., various addresses and dramas. Regularly drive to the outskirts of the Motor City to ride the track under the alternately silent/shouting tutelage of the famed Dale Hughes. Drop out of the Ph.D. program, put everything in the back of my truck, move to Portland.

Pick up racing again. Get engaged and move in with my guy. Theorize that part of the reason behind my unshakable ennui is home. Semi-suicidally climb Mt Hood (don't die, don't care). Get mini-divorced, de-joint the bank account, buy each other out of shared possessions. Drink too much, cry a lot, stop riding.

You literary critics may notice ... there's a theme here. Hint: what has two wheels and likes being functional transporation?

And now - in a new-and-better-place, with a partner who rocks and rules when it comes to being supportive in the right ways - it's time to try this dance again.

SO.
Whereas girl has internet access;
and Whereas girl has access to keyboard;
and Whereas girl has things to say to an audience of as many as zero;
and Whereas girl wants to keep track of bikey endeavors;
and Whereas said bikey endeavors are intimidating because of matching spandex and skinnies and fast-pants and rich kids on nice bikes,
...

Be It Resolved that this is the place to talk bikes. Race reports, wrenching frustrations, tales of commuting in the rain and moving things by bike and hitting the trails/roads/paths all over.

Helmets on, rubber side down, - and - let's go ride bikes!

PICK IT UP!