Always last
I grew up in a brick two-flat on the south side of Chicago. We were on the first floor and my aunt, uncle, and cousins on the second. Down the block were more cousins and friends who may as well have been cousins for the amount of time we spent in each other’s houses. Directly across the street was a big public park where we ice skated in the winter, and rode our bikes in the summer.
My sisters and I spent a ridiculous amount of time on our bikes in that park. Along with our friends, we would race around the sidewalk that outlined the triangle-shaped park. Most times it was just for the pure fun of being out on our bikes, but sometimes we would have a more sinister agenda. We would plot, plan, and choose our “target” as we took a leisurely pass around the perimeter of the park. After filling our squirt guns from the nearest water fountain, our little pack of hoodlums would pick up speed and squirt the guys who were sleeping on the park benches while riding by as fast as we could. And we would laugh our heads off and for a week after would talk about a particularly great escapade…who was the bravest? fastest? I was the youngest of the group, so often we knew the answer to “who was last to get away?”
Riding bikes and playing outside is what we did. There were no video games, no iPods. TV was slim pickings. So we went outside. And my sisters and cousins and friends and I were so close because of the time we spent riding and laughing and playing. I wouldn’t trade those days for anything, and we still reminisce about those crazy, happy times whenever we’re together.
“Family” is an interesting word. Yes the obvious applies, but more often – and I think especially as we get older — it means those that we surround ourselves with who make us feel special. Those who make us laugh, and those that we can truly be ourselves around.
I had a birthday this week, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of heartfelt and genuine wishes I received from cycling friends around the country (and beyond) that I’ve made through Twitter. I’ve had the very good fortune to meet many of these friends in person, and I hope to meet many more. I know that I could go to just about any city and I would have someone to talk with, have coffee with, and ride with. What an incredible feeling to be part of a community – a family – of people who have made a connection because of cycling.
Back in those days it didn’t matter one bit that I would always be last. All that mattered was that I was there, that I got to be part of it.
Funny how life works sometimes.
Me, in the saddle, with help from my sisters.
Tagged with: adventure • bicycle • bike • birthday • chicago • community • cycling • family • memories • ride • twitter