Wind and shoes

A friend of mine was asking for bike advice. We spent the past week communicating on what type of bike she should get and what to look for. Just this weekend, she purchased a new bike for herself. There were some kinks to be worked out in that process: rude customer service in one bike shop and an uncomfortable saddle when she finally rode.

But then she told me about how refreshing it was to be on the bike, to have the wind run through your hair. And oh, how I missed that feeling.

I've been listless the past few days. My friends invited me for bike rides early in the morning but I never seem to wake up early enough anymore. The holidays will do that to you. I've been meaning to try out these new bike shoes as well. The first time I practiced clipping and unclipping, I didn't even get to the unclipping part. It seemed like I was clipped on for good. Luckily enough, I knew from past experience not to put both shoes on at the same time, otherwise, a painful crash will occur. So I walked around the village with one clipped shoe on until I could eventually yank it off the pedal.

Needless to say, I was terrified. It was exactly like trying on clipless mountain bike shoes for the first time. But I knew eventually I had to get on that bike and make for the hills. 

And so this afternoon, I dragged that road bike that I haven't been on in months and brought it with me to C5. I clipped myself on and headed for Antipolo. The sun was going down, the traffic wasn't as bad as it was during the weekdays (except near the malls), and the air was mercifully cool.

I managed to clip and unclip while weaving in and out of traffic without any mishaps. Once I was clipped on, I felt connected. How strange that a bike becomes an extension of yourself. It understands your nuances and your fears and knows you better than you. It knows your strengths and tells you to keep pedaling up those hills because those wheels will keep moving and will take you to the top. It tells you to let go of those brakes and trust the bike to do the rest. 

And so I rode. I rode until the chaos of Marcos Highway disappeared. I rode until I could feel my lungs bursting and crying out for air as I hit Antipolo's hills. I rode until I could feel my body drenched in sweat despite the cool air. I rode until I could feel the snot come out of my nose. I rode until the sun disappeared and the road became dark and scary. I rode until my breathing became normal again and my heart stopped pounding.

I rode so I could feel the wind through my (short) hair.