When I was a kid I rode horses. Well, really just one horse. Her name was Black Beauty, and she came in the form of a bright pink bicycle. We would go on many adventures together – galloping up and down driveways and in circles around the cul-de-sac. On hot summer days we would chase after the ice-cream-man together – she never once let me down.
I’m not sure what happened to Black Beauty. The years crept along, and my family moved to a neighborhood across town. I started attending middle school, and boys became my new interest. Eventually I got my driver’s license, which I learned is a much more efficient way to chase down the ice-cream-man.
My love for bicycles faded, but it did not die. In the more recent years of my life I’ve rediscovered the hopeless crush I once had for those two wheeled machines. Now, whenever I get the chance to ride a bicycle I am flooded with all the feelings of my youth – of innocence and adventure, possibility and fearlessness. When I’m riding a bike I feel like I’m ten again.
I’ve made attempts, feeble they may be, to ride bicycles more frequently. Before the World Race I took a bike ride with my sister to the nearby Target to buy items for my trip. On the race I’ve been able to ride bikes in Kenya and Uganda…and now Cambodia.
When I was meeting with our contact Cecil, she mentioned that it would be a good idea for my team to rent bikes for the month. As the words tumbled out of her mouth my heart was filled with that giddy excitement you feel right before opening a Christmas gift.
Today was Christmas – my team went to a bike rental store and picked out our faithful steeds for the next few weeks. The first thing we did was name them: Ives, Slate, Orange Fanta, Lil Red Rocket, Lupita, Shadowfax and The Silver Bullet (Black Beauty’s second cousin thrice removed)
