Get Back On the Horse… Or Bike… Or Whatever

So it’s been a minute since my last blog post — actually 1.5MM minutes, give or take 20K. Man! That’s a lot of meg-a-bits rolling around in my head. Yes, I googled how many days that was. No, that’s not the point. Yes, I used a nerdy Excel sheet to calculate the number of minutes. No, that doesn’t count as using algebra from high school.

Not that I’ve thought of a new bit every day. We’ve had a lot of life happen in that time – new jobs, new home, new home state, new vehicles, new recipes, new friends – and that’s just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Not that only the new things matter — we count ourselves highly fortunate to still have many of the same friends, the same caring family, each other and our dogs. Just the same, it’s time to get back on the horse, or bike, or Vespa, or whatever — and sharing whatever bits I have, in the form of new blogs.

In all the chaos of the last couple of years, I’ve missed the stretching of the creative writing muscles and mental calisthenics of creating these stories — these bits.

Going back to the old sayings my family dearly loves, it’s time to get back on the horse. Or bike. Or whatever. I think I like the bike metaphor because the last time I rode a horse, it was completely a time of getting back on a horse that threw my college roommate and me, landing us in the emergency room. Not that it wasn’t also a time of growing and learning – for instance, I learned that watching someone get stitches makes me queasy. Eek.

The bike metaphor evokes much happier memories, thinking back to my first bicycle — she was a BEAUTY. Second hand, bought at a garage sale, but I could not have cared less about that. She was red, white and blue, with a faded vinyl banana seat and super high, Orange County Chopper-style handlebars — totally all 70’s Easy Rider. There I was, a pint-sized squirt riding in style, big time. As I describe it now, I feel like it really probably looked more like the flamingo of bicycles — somewhat awkward and tomboyish, but I thought it was the coolest bike in the world – hands down, no contest.

I’m sure I fell down in the process of learning to ride, because my lack of coordination is legendary in my family. There’s my brother – the college football player; my sister – a high school cheerleader; and me – in all my nerdiness. That mattered zero to me, because I was six years old and gaining some neighborhood independence — if only I could master the two-wheeler in the driveway. I was determined to make it work, and I kept getting back on the bike — my dad trotting alongside me until I got the hang of it, yelling encouragement and coaching along the way. “Steady, keep pedaling! You’re doing it – hold the handlebars straight! You got it! You got it!”

I still remember the feeling of that first ride where I didn’t fall — you’re remembering your first solo ride now too, aren’t you? Do you remember that feeling? That giddiness? That feeling of focus and determination being rewarded with accomplishment?

We don’t get a ton of that in our adult lives, do we? It’s about finding the little moments that bring us joy, that feeling of accomplishment, or sharing a little bit of our personal journey to connect with those around us. No ground-breaking universal truths here — just getting back on the bike, so to speak. And enjoying the ride.

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