Bicycling

Well, I thought it was about time I post something on bicycling, since you are looking at "JulieBike" blogspot. (I have already posted some nickname explanations, including the Hooligan thing.) I'm not a big-time rider like cousins Rick, Fernando, and others. I haven't done the Cycle Oregon. I don't race. I don't do the big group weekend rides. Or crazy stuff, like Portland's Bare Naked Ride or the ZooBomb (is that the right name?). I don't ride year round in the dark and rain -- I have been in the dark or rain, but those are future stories.

We used to bike as kids, back in the good-old safe days, after school, in the summer, just out and about. As an adult, I only biked occasionally. Brooke tells me she was scared when I put her on the child carrier seat, the original kind where the kid was riding over the back wheel. We did not have the kid trailers back then. Sorry Brooke!

(Oh, maybe tomorrow I will give you one short story about her cycling as a grade-school kid...unless she recognizes where I'm going and posts it first!)

I got active again almost four years ago. I saw an article about the Livestrong ride (not a race) that was going to be the second annual fundraising ride, 2006, in the Portland area, one of three nationally. The first year it was held, Mom and Dad went down to the end of the runway to watch some of the riders go by. That was September 25, 2005, four days before he passed away. So I signed up for 10 miles and had three months to prepare for the June 2006 ride.

Started "training," short rides (couple of miles) in my area. Then a longer 8-mile route - funny how I don't notice how steep the hills are when I'm in the car. And I soon found out there's a reason cyclists wear those funny padded shorts or pants. 'Nuf said on that.

Figured out how to load the bike on the front of the bus, so I could bus to work in the morning and bicycle home (8.5 miles).

For the Livestrong ride, I switched when I picked up my registration packet: 40 miles instead of 10! Woo-hoo! Not as much to brag about compared to the people who were doing 60 or 100 miles. In fact, it was very sobering, humbling, to be passed by people who had the sign on their back, "I am a Survivor."

My sign: "In memory of Dad."