I have been riding my bike to work for a number of weeks now. It is the four miles of the day I’ve grown to love.
For a while I had convinced myself that I was too cool for a helmet. I was going mostly through neighborhoods, helmet might mess up my hair, and I simply didn’t need one because of my stubbornness. But thoughts of you, lying on the pavement, hardly conscious, kept flooding my mind. I am so glad that even if part of you was replaced with a steal rod, you are still alright now. I bought a helmet. It is not so stylish, but it is mine. I have you to thank.
I carry it with me where ever my bike goes. And somewhere along the way I’ve turned into a real bike-commuter. One of those messenger-bag-wearing-rolls-right-pant-leg-up-takes-helmet-into-restaurant-bikers. And I’m not going to lie, I love it. I continue to find new things to fix on the bike (his name is Brett, by the way. Brett Bretterson.) and with each passing week my commute becomes more and more satisfying. It used to annoy me that I would have to carry Brett up 3 flights of stairs at the end of the day, but now I see it as a sign of accomplishment.
At 11.50 I escape from work and head over to mass. Although I have shoes that I use to get too and from work, the heels stay on for the commute to the church. Its probably not the best idea, I know, but it is a game for me. A challenge. “Ladies and gentlemen, CAN she do IT?!” I think it makes the ride all the more interesting if for no one else but myself.