In my pre-motherhood life, I cycled across Canada, coast to coast. I cycled through Tuscany, across Newfoundland and Labrador and along the Icefields Parkway, from Jasper to Banff. I cycled in Arizona, the Gulf Islands and in cycling mobs from the Rideau Lakes Tour and Le Tour Nortel to Le Tour de l”Île de Montréal.
Cycling was a challenge and a rush and a close-up, whole body adventure.
But some of my fondest cycling moments have been early morning commutes, pitch dark rides home after drinks with Jay, and chilly autumn spins with Luba.
Until yesterday, I thought those days were done.
Between my chemo-induced balance issues and my aching muscles and bones, I was afraid to try.
Yesterday, with visions of celebratory post-radiation margaritas dancing in my head, I hauled out my neglected bike, pumped up the tires and gave it a go.
It was indescribably heavenly.
Happiness is cycling. Here’s hoping there’s lots and lots and lots more.