I was one of those cyclists

Never Done: I was one of those cyclists
Tshuve: I had the first wintergreen chip ice cream of the season at Erikson's

When I was growing up, I rode my bike everywhere, over miles and miles of hilly country roads, through orchards and past fields. I rode to school, I rode to friends' houses, I rode to work in neighboring towns. I think I'd say there was a bike riding culture in my town, but not a cycling culture. We rode in shorts and sandals or sneakers, and we didn't wear helmets. We didn't have toe clips, or shirts with pockets on the back. Nobody came to Harvard to train. We just rode bikes.

I was up in Harvard over the weekend (wonderful! wonderful!) and fit in two of my three training sessions. I took a wonderful run (3.7 miles, 40 minutes) the evening I arrived; I napped on the couch by the fire instead of going swimming on Saturday; and on Sunday I got geared up and went for my first ever training ride over the Harvard hills. I did my best to ignore the mental image of my mother rolling her eyes at me for my cycling shorts and gloves, as I set out on my little folding bike for a training ride. First of all, it was just wonderful to ride those roads again. I had sense memories of riding the three miles school (which used to take me 12 minutes, with a three-speed and a backpack; 30 years later, it took me 20 minutes, with a 7-speed with little wheels. I'm not sure what the comp is here, but it's likely that the only useful lesson is not to compare my 48-year-old self with my 18-year-old self.) At the beginning I thought about giving up and waiting til I have a good bike with normal-sized wheels. But I stuck with it, and I gave over to the limitations of my bike, and I ended up riding for 45 minutes, from one side of town to the other, from one dear friend's house to another's, from one Easter celebration to another, past many other cyclists and no other bike riders, riding the liminal space between two worlds -- my old town and the town it has become, still filled with people (and orchards and fields) I love.

And then later, on the way out of town, Josh and I stopped at Erikson's for the first ice cream of the year.