By Lisa Hazel — As a child who grew up in the suburb of Sandy, Utah, riding my bicycle was a way to expel frustration while connecting to the world around me within a small radius of my home. I remember taking a breath of relief once I decided to grab my helmet, wander downstairs, and open the garage. My parents had two Honda Accords for most of the time my bicycle was in working order and my bike belonged in front of the 1988 Honda Accord.
Remembering the act of untangling my bike from the other bikes and various other garage tools is one of the first memorable acts of patience I learned. I remember thinking of the reward, which made the detangling from the Radio Flyer wagon and my parent’s Schwinn bicycles a price I was willing to pay. Feeling the freedom of my long hair blowing behind me as I rode to my favorite driveways on the neighboring blocks brought happiness I only glimpse shortly as an adult. The pitch of the driveway one block east and at the end of two blocks north gave my calves a preview of steep climbs. Most of my friends had flat driveways so I didn’t see an incentive to riding up theirs. Driveway climbs were reserved for those that could give me a boost home or up longer street hills.
I feel like my life adds more responsibility to it as each day passes. There are my two credit card bills to pay; each with their respective due dates clouding up my mind from the childhood and carefree state. In my life now, I need to do the dishes, apply for jobs, read books, write, clean my house, organize my mind, and organize my possessions. I prepare for riding my bike differently now. Pushing my life list aside to gather my gloves, helmet, lock, and backpack often occupies so much brain space I do not get to be excited about the bike ride that’s coming until I am back to the experience of the wind in my long hair. My long hair gives me a link to the connection I have with the wind in my face with my feet pedaling my bicycle. That tickle on my face from my hair getting stuck from perspiration links me to times I have enjoyed dancing, public speaking, and testing my skills at school.
Bicycling connects me to other memories that release endorphins or swing me toward deep pain. To experience the full pendulum of feeling from pain to contentment one must be open to many feelings in between that expose one to emotional nuances throughout a lifetime. This range of emotion does not cost money. It is one of the spectrums of freedom and connection we all have access to. To gain access to your own subtle feelings, talk to people around you about memories you haven’t mentioned for years. Try talking about a fond memory and mention a detail you often leave out. If you have a biking memory, talk about it. If it’s painful, try to mention one vulnerable detail that you haven’t before. Then, listen.
