But when I got to the gas station, I struggled trying to remove the bike from my tiny trunk. So, instead, I pulled my car close enough to the air pump. After a few quick blast of air, I was all set to go on my journey. That's when I started thinking.
I thought about the rides I took with my pals during my youth. We used to ride bikes around our West Philadelphia neighborhood, and partly through Cobbs Creek Park almost every weekend, and sometimes after class when the weather was warm. Back then riding was totally about friendship. We didn’t care or even consider the fact that we were exercising and becoming physically fit. We rode because we liked to spend time together. And despite not talking, we were connecting. Becoming fit was sort of a sidekick, one that never crossed my mind.
This time around, I hopped on the seat of my bike and began peddling up the hill toward Belmont Avenue all alone, except for random strangers. Nevertheless, I am feeling good.
I rode up and down the hills in and around Fairmount Park long enough not only to push my heart rate up, but to enjoy the beautiful summer-like weather. I puffed, but kept a steady pace, peddling up every hill except one.
