I get asked a lot : “How did you get into bike racing?”
My parents weren’t cyclists and they are about as athletic as any typical middle-aged parent is. My father played sports in high school, mainly football. I remember growing up on Layton Avenue, playing baseball with my father and some neighborhood kids. I’m pretty sure my father was the only adult out there, tossing a ball with an underhand throw toward us kids, as we swung and miss, swung and miss, until we finally struck the ball out into the cul-de-sac.
Before we could chase down the ball, we had to look both ways before crossing the street. We’d shuffle up to ball, cup in our 7-year old hands, and try with all our might, throw it back to my father, likely misdirecting the ball, forcing him to chase after it.
I learned how to ride a bike in that cul-de-sac as well. There was no such thing as Stryders then so I teetered on my pink bike complete with training wheels that never seemed to be level. I’m sure there were a lot circles pedaled and bated breaths as I picked up speed. I’m assuming there was a point in my cycling when my parents believed enough in my balancing abilities to unscrew the training wheels.
I’m also assuming I was part terrified and part excited for this new skill. I can see it now: my father holding the bike steady as I wobbled…
