I am officially a cyclist - I love to bike

I realized this past weekend that I don't just like to bike, I love it.

I know that sounds pretty simple and doesn't really seem like something that would require a lot of thought, however, it still surprised me when the idea struck me.

I love to bike.

I started biking as a form of exercise, to gain muscle strength, to trim a few pounds. I continued because I liked it.

But I seek it out, plan around it, and look forward to it because I love it.

I love the way the wind feels.

I love zipping around corners.

I love working hard to get up a hill, and then racing down it.

I love that I can simultaneously do something that burns so many calories while just hanging out with my kids.

I love that its mostly free, that maintenance is easy, and that I can spend as much or as little money on the hobby as I want.

I love that its changing my outlook on things like vacation and free time.

I love that I don't have a TV show for every night of the week now.

I love that whether there is a half hour of daylight after work or three, there is plenty of time to get in a quick ride.

I love the clothes, the gear, the feel of the saddle.

I love passing cars and even, call me crazy, getting buzzed by cars.

I love "taking the lane" and using hand signals.

I love being part of another society, a group all our own.

I love to bike, and therefore I am a cyclist.

Who knew?

Don't Judge a Book by its Helmet

"Be careful!"

Two little words. They mean well - they shouldn't be enraging. Its almost comical really.

I'm sure it would get a good laugh, and I'm sure tomorrow I'll laugh about it. Because it is kind of humorous, right? Except tonight it isn't.

Not to me tonight. Not to me sore and wishing I was just the same and carefree as everyone else seems to be.

I was out on my bike ride today - my newest obsession in my quest for fitness. I have found that I love to ride. When I ride, the only hurts I feel are good hurts, like the burn of exercise a normal person feels, the burn of muscles rebuilding, getting stronger. Not the aching of joints and shots of nerve pain, but pure strong exhilaration.

Yet one of my problems is I get dizzy. I'm on meds too, and one of their side effects - you guessed it - dizziness. Double doses of dizziness, great!

I don't fall down (yet), but it can be disorientating. So I decided if I'm going to ride a bike and zip down hills and fly around corners and share the road with cars, I'm going to wear a helmet. Because with my luck, one of those moments, those zipping moments, will be the first time I fall.

And herein lies the problem.

Because I don't go all out with the style - I don't commit. I ride a mountain bike, as of now, until I save up enough pennies for a road bike. I wear jeans. Yep, jeans. I wear a light, or white, t-shirt, and its usually baggy.

None of this builds a picture of speed in your head, does it?

So I can see why the friendly neighborhood man thought the helmet a bit out of place. I could see why he might mistake me for someone else, someone with a more severe disability.

I can see, just a teeny, tiny, eensy, weensy bit why he would smile at me like I am "special."

Yet I am mad!

"Be careful," he says as I pass, with that smile you reserve for children or the naive or the slow.

"Be careful."

And I ride on, enraged.

But I still wear my helmet. Most of us should wear helmets. Some of us need helmets. Others don't need to know why.

Tomorrow I will laugh about this. For tonight, though, I just ride.