Biking

My dad adores biking. Whenever he has the chance/time he's out on the road or up a trail somewhere. He even bikes to work - weather and time permitting. That's Dad. I, on the other hand, have never been a huge fan of biking. I don't even think I had a reason for this dislike; it's almost as though I woke one morning and decided, "You know, I think I'm just not going to like biking anymore." And so I didn't like it. For years my dad has been inviting me to go out biking with him and not once have I gone... maybe when I was like 14 or something. But definitely not in the last decade. I love to hike, play soccer and volleyball, ski, and play outdoors... biking and I just never clicked - not as a regular hobby type of a thing at least. I've biked Central Park, Hyde Park, Boston's Freedom Trail, and other famous places... but that was more as a tourist than a "biker".

Well, this July my dad again invited me to go biking with him and I said yes. What's more, is that in addition to saying yes, I actually went on a bike ride with him! Me. He took me on what he considers to be a "beginners" ride. Well, it was rough, tough, hot, hard, and not something I would consider to be "beginner" level... but it was absolutely delightful. I loved it - well, when I wasn't thinking "I think I can't...can...can't...can...breathe...I'm dying...just keep going..." And by some miracle, I made it and am now officially hooked. In fact, I've biked just about every day since (nearly three weeks now). I am slower than slow, take countless breaks, and have the sorest of bottoms (though I'm loving my padded bum biking shorts)... and I love it. 


Looks like there's still hope for me, after all, dad. (Ps: Thanks for your patience.)

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