Autobiography

May has been one of those particularly busy months, the kind when you realize it’s the 18th of the month and wonder if you remembered to pay rent. (I did.) It really started back in April, with back-to-back three concert weeks, birthday celebrations, six of eight weekends out of town (that stretches till June!), meals out and more. I can’t much complain, mind you; my trips have taken me from Seattle to St. Augustine, for work and for play. (I’m fortunate enough to frequently combine the two.)

But of course, I’ve found myself spread a bit thin. I’m tired, and this round of mayhem won’t end for at least three more weeks. Last Monday encapsulated that exhaustion. I stepped off the plane from Seattle around 4 p.m. and arrived home by 4:30. Four days of constant walking and experiencing rendered me mute on the couch for a few hours, but by 7 I was up and on my way to trivia before catching the tail end of a friend’s birthday dinner. Come Tuesday, I was pretty tired.

I’m trying to find a balance here, something I suppose I’ll be striving for all my life. There’s work, there’s friendship, there’s pursuing new challenges, and somewhere in this mix I hope there’s time for me. Just me. I need that (quite a lot of it actually) to succeed at anything else.

I claimed yesterday for myself. I returned home from another weekend trip and quickly busied myself with cleaning and cooking. But after a few hours I gave in and did what I really wanted to do: hopped on my bike in the rain. I met up with a friend on the trail, then headed to the grocery store (back to the practical) before visiting another friend for coffee. The alone time on my bike followed by one-on-one conversations? Both essential parts of a good day, I think. I then returned home, skipped church (something I rarely do!) and cooked a fairly balanced dinner for myself. I completed a writing assignment, took a bubble bath and read, for pleasure, before bed. Save for skipping out on church, it was nearly as balanced a day as I can imagine. 

Getting up at 4:30 a.m. probably helped.

Since I brought her home two weeks ago, my bike Eleanor Rigby and I have stuck to riding the neighborhood streets. There’s a quick route up one street and down the other, totaling a mile per lap. I’ve quickly learned that everything in Birmingham really is a hill. My neighborhood run is convenient, but it’s almost entirely up hill one way and coasting down the other.

It’s a nice way to fit in a 20 minute ride after work. But even with the gratification of flying downhill, the monotony has already set in. So today I took Eleanor on her first trip out of the ‘hood.

I drove to a nearby park, unloaded E.R. and replaced her front tire, then took to the trail. And quickly turned back around because I realized I was coming up on a foot traffic only bridge; my only option was to bike on the street until it reconvened with the trail. From then on, I was immersed in the experience. Even riding with traffic on the way back didn’t bother me.

I didn’t ride any farther than I normally do. My route totalled about three miles. But I rode for almost twice as long as usual, and was pedaling nearly the whole time. I’ve been back at my apartment for several hours now, but I’m still daydreaming about that quick little trail. I can’t wait for a weekend when I can stay out longer and explore more trails.

When Elisa and I became friends, she was getting more involved in living a local lifestyle. We joined a community supported agriculture group together, reveling in the glory of fresh, local produce each week. She planted a garden outside her apartment’s back door. And she bought a bike, a beautiful cruiser she named Kevin Bacon.

These were things she’d been interested in for some time, but her involvement quickly took off. In particular, that was true for her cycling. Before long, Elisa began riding her bike everywhere and upgraded to a commuter bike, a friendly, sleek guy she named Mick Jagger. Recently she and some friends launched a bicycle co-op. And after months of listening to her talk about the joys of bike riding, I made a deal with her: Find me a cheap bike that fits me, and I’ll try riding.

So she did. And today, I became a bike owner.

My bike, Eleanor Rigby, is a blue Nishiki Pueblo, a hybrid that needed just a little love. Elisa and a friend tuned her up, but the back wheel needed a little more work than Elisa could provide. So this morning I picked her and Eleanor’s back wheel up and we drove to the local bike shop.

I left my apartment brimming with excitement and anticipation. I’m a very risk-averse person; sometimes I get nervous driving the same route I take every day. But I want my recreational biking to be more than riding around my (very small) neighborhood five times a day. I hope to load Eleanor into my car and take her downtown on weekends, when the streets aren’t filled with traffic and when I’m likely to waste a lot of gas just running around.

While Elisa spoke to the bike mechanics, I got fitted for a helmet. (Helmet hair be darned! I technically purchased my helmet before my bike. It’s that important!) And after we returned to her apartment and replaced Eleanor’s wheel, I was ready for my first ride as an adult bike owner.

Elisa kindly offered to join me on the one mile trip from her apartment to the birthday party I was attending, and her presence really did help me feel more comfortable with riding down a semi-busy street. Even so, it was an easy ride, mostly downhill and flat, with only a block uphill. And the rewards were sweet: Two friends and their children were climbing out of their car when I pedaled up. I was the talk of the party (OK, save for the precious 1-year-old whose birthday we were celebrating!), and I felt pretty darn great. Intrinsic motivation is great, but a little outside motivation helps too.

After the party came the ride I was nervous about. I was meeting friends to play at the science museum downtown, and had decided to ride the two miles to my coffee shop. Although the museum is only five blocks farther, I knew I would feel comfortable leaving my bike locked to a meter outside the shop. And frankly, I always want coffee.

I set out from my friends’ house with warnings to be careful and to call them if I needed any help. A recent doctor’s visit confirmed that I’m healthy, but as I pedaled through the streets of downtown I was quickly reminded that healthy and in shape are two very different things. Even riding on the flat roads wore me out. I had to stop twice and quickly finished the tiny bottle of water I brought with me.

But I felt so accomplished as I pedaled over the bridge (a hill!) and crossed from Southside to downtown. I spotted a girl in a pink shirt pedaling toward me and knew it was Elisa. She joined me for the final three blocks to the coffee shop, and I’ll admit, I didn’t feel quite so awesome as we pulled up. I was sweaty, my dress was sticking to me and that two mile ride had kicked my butt. My best guy friend walked up, laughing at me (I’d already warned him that this was how I would arrive), and after locking my bike I went inside and threw myself across the counter. “Water!” I said, panting. “I need water!”

Another friend who rides had cautioned me to take it slow as I began riding. Only ride when you want to, he said, and don’t let anyone push you into doing more than you’re ready for. Bike nerds can be pretty hardcore, and he didn’t want me to become disenchanted before I really got going. So after playing at the museum, I decided to lift my bike into the back of a friend’s truck and get a ride back to my car. Five and a half miles on my first day would have sounded more impressive (OK, even if it’s not very far on wheels!), but loving my bike tomorrow is more important.

As he lifted my bike into his truck bed, my friend identified the source of my troubles. My back tire was scraping the bar that held it in place. No wonder those two miles were so tortuous! “Do I get superhero points for riding with it like that?” I asked him. He said maybe not. But I am even more motivated to keep going, and that’s enough for today.

Oh, and the other lesson from my first day as a bike owner? Pigtails are definitely the way to rock a lilac and white helmet. If you pass me on the street, be kind. I’m new at this.