Nostalgia Kicks In

It's no secret. I'm a total beginner when it comes to riding a bike. While I cruised around the neighborhood as a kid, banging up and down curbs, jumping obstacles, and being generally fearless (see "stupid") on my hot pink and teal Giant Awesome, it unfortunately doesn't translate today into being bike handling savvy.

At the store, I see the mechanics wizz by me all day on their way out to the parking lot to test ride. They are on every sort of bike you can imagine, literally, and always appear to naturally be a part of them. They don't have to touch their feet to the ground as they open and close doors, or maneuver around bikes on the floor on rainy days. They are all experts.

I know exactly how they feel.

Last night, as I was lying in bed trying to imagine muscle memory wise what it would feel like to jump on and off my cyclocross bike, knowing that no matter how often I imagined I would still crash and burn during my first few (fifty) attempts, I allowed myself to remember what it's like to ride a horse.

I mean, REALLY ride a horse. Extension, collection, forward and straight, shoulder in, haunches in, haunches out, circles, serpentines, jumping a combination. Everything. I remembered what it was like to get on a horse I'd never ridden before, and know in a matter of five minutes exactly what I needed to work on with it. Did it pop its' outside shoulder? Was it stiffer to the right or to the left? Was it lazy? Did I need to crack it with the stick once when it ignored my leg aid? Soft mouth? Hard mouth? More bit? Less bit? Draw reins?

There was a time in my life, not so long ago, when I worked for the top levels of the hunter/jumper world. If Lance Armstrong, Fabian Cancellara, Jens Voigt, George Hincapie, and all the rest could be translated into my former employers, it would read Sandy Ferrell, Scott Stewart, Don Stewart, Chris Kappler, etc.

And of course, Eddie Merckx himself: George Morris. Aka God. I worked for God.

All of this, for the first time, made me miss riding horses. It made me want to call Brass Lantern Farm, a very high caliber facility right down the street, and ask if I could exercise the babies while they went to Florida this winter. (Something I will never do again, go down to Florida for the winter circuit). Not for money, I gave up being pro when I bought a house in Greensboro. But just to allow the feeling of expertise once again.

I know this whole post sounds self serving and boastful. Point taken. But in a way, I need these past accolades to remind me that at one point in time, I was a complete beginner on a horse. It was only with time and practice that I became the rider I am today. It didn't happen overnight.

And neither will becoming adept on a bike.

Cyclocross season will be my bike skills bootcamp, in a sense. I'm not in it to win it, but I am in it to gain confidence and know-how when it comes to cycling confidently. Hopefully, my muscle memory will shift from imaginary to concrete.