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| Much like Pee Wee in Pee Wee's Big Adventure, I wondered: Would I ever ride my bike again? |
Nothing has been the same since the accident. Okay, that's not true -- I've just always wanted to start a piece that way. But really, after a car accident in February 2012 that followed a disappointing faux-tryst with Demetri Martin put me out of commission, my world -- which revolved around a fifteen-hour a week manic workout obsession -- fell apart. No more yoga, no more boxing, no more riding my bicycle.
I don't know how it is for other addicts, but while I've enjoyed exercise most of my life, the desire went into overdrive when I quit drinking. I did hot yoga to fucking live, man. I own an almost complete line of Nike shirts that say weird shit like "Every Damn Day" and "Girls Score More" that I wear to the gym every day (items of clothing that definitely make my boyfriend question ouer relationship on a daily basis.) I love working out.
After a shoulder injury kicked me out of my fitness orbit, I suffered a profound disconnection with my bicycle. But fifteen months later, we're back together -- and I'm trying to figure out how to be the commuting cyclist I once was, without being overwhelmed by the idea that it has been so damn long since I rode thirty miles in a day.
See also:
- The Cherry Creek bike trail is a magnet for assholes in spandex
- Broox Pulford plugs Loops four-year anniversary and the power of safe cycling
- Cruiser bikes suck: they attract Philistines and ruin cycling for the rest of us
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