You Inspire Me

I started running when I was in seventh grade because my parents thought I was getting fat.  At first, it was painful and boring and every labored step was confirmation that I was now a ‘fatty pants.’   I was not inspired.  I was tortured.  Then, when I was a freshman in high school, I tried out and made the track team.  I was starting to feel inspired, but my days running with the St. John Vianney Lancers were short lived after I was diagnosed with severe shin splints.  The doctor informed me that I couldn’t run for three months, but to stay in shape, I could ride my bike.

Ride my bike? I thought. What a joke.  Riding my bike was something I did when I wanted to get from point A to point B. Riding my bike was not sport and it was definitely not going to get me in shape.  Well, that’s what I thought until I was introduced to the Atlantic Cycling Club and was lucky enough to be accepted into their ‘secret society.’  It didn’t take me long to realize that these guys didn’t just ride from point A to point B, they were serious.  They were cyclists, not bikers. They were racers, not riders.  They were tall and fit. And they had that cool factor. 

I was way out of my league and often dreaded the group rides and the training races. The unflattering cycling shorts did nothing for my figure or my self esteem and I felt awkward at every turn.  But, I was inspired.  I was inspired mostly by the boys my age who I knew throughout my childhood.  Only a few years prior, we had been close, but gender differences and maturity and social norms had created a silence between us.  Out of my element and uncomfortable, I felt inferior.  So I watched from afar.  I listened when they talked about their bikes, their components, their strategy and their gear.  Then, I took the coveted intellectual property I had gained and tried to apply it to my cycling so I could I get better and be faster and look cooler.  At the time, I didn’t consciously know why all this was so important to me.

But I get it now. I now know why, more than any other childhood friends, the cycling boys stayed close to my heart long after my last road race decades ago.  It’s because they had spirit – they were brave, committed and authentic.  Even at 15, they knew what they wanted and worked for it.  They spent hours a day training for a sport that almost no one cared about.  They were their own mechanics and their own support crew.  They crashed and brushed themselves off and did it over and over without regret.  I believe I was drawn to their unbreakable spirit.

During my cycling days, I learned what inspires me and who I aspire to be.  I learned that I’m attracted to people who have passion and commitment and drive.  And, without them ever knowing it, these are the people who challenge me to change and grow and take risks.  As for my cycling friends, I’ve lived my life from that moment on as though our paths would someday cross again and they would think that I too had achieved a bit of that cool factor.  And if that day ever came, I would make sure to let them know that I owe it all to them.