Empowerment Through Fear

Pump.

Lift.

Pump.

Lift.

Pump.

It’s been awhile since I touched you.  I’ve often looked at you with a lingering stare.

Lift.

Pump.

I miss you.  I want you, but I’ve been afraid.

Lift.

Pump.

Lift.

I’ve been afraid that I would get hurt again.

Pump.

I’ve been afraid to get back on you.

Lift.

It’s not like I didn’t want to be one again.

Pump.

But as I get older, I’ve begun to examine my mortality and it’s been hard to be reckless once again.

Lift. Pump.

And yet, we weren’t completely reckless.

Lift. Pump.

Together, we were free.

*     *     *     *

And so, I lifted my bike on my shoulder and walked it down the back stairs.  Tires freshly pumped.  Lights on and brightly blinking.  Click, click of the gears as I walked to the alley. I raised my right leg over the blue frame.  With a breath, I lifted myself on my bike and pedaled.  The wind whispered softly in my ears I pedaled down the orange glowing alley.

Nothing could have prepared me for this moment.  After being hit by car while riding my bike (in a bike lane) last July, it’s been awhile since I could get myself to ride again.  And not just ride along a trail, but truly ride.  Ride and be free.

And this moment, as my legs powered through each pedal, I haven’t felt this free and empowered in ages.  The bike became an extension of my body and my blood flowed through the bike as if we were one. I finally felt free again.

I caressed the blue frame that I loving call my Tardis.

“It’s good to be back,” I said to her as we zipped through the dark streets of Chicago on our new adventure.

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