I went out on my first ride today.
Quite a lot happened during this maiden voyage. But before that let me tell you how this whole thing started.
You see, my grandfather was a road cyclist, quite a good one if only in his little town in what now is part of Mexico City. I, on the other hand, have never been sports oriented in my life. I dabbled in soccer, tae kwon do and basketball, but I never have considered me fond of physical activity.
Furthermore, cycling was not something my parents wanted me to do, not for fun, not for transportation, not for anything… As an only child, “risks” where to high and every chance to go out a chance for me to loose a limb or even die (not an overstatement).
None the less, I remember that the few rides I got when I was a kid were a blast and loved the distinct feeling of the wind on my face as I gained speed through no other means of propulsion but my legs.
So, Why do I cycle? To break a cycle. To start over. To connect with my past an also to break away from it. I still may find that my parents were right and risks are even higher than they thought, but hey, if I’m goin’ down (and we all are at some point) at least I’ll have more fun memories with wind on my face and speed generated by ingenuity and sheer human power.