The following post was written by Cory Redmond. She writes a blog and commands a FaceBook page. You should acquaint yourself with both because she is just generally badass on several levels, is an up and coming endurance mountain biker, an accomplished cyclocross racer, and it's just a fantastic idea to check her out. Cory has the balls to write things you won't let yourself think about, much less say out loud. I wish I had written this.
Lunatic on Wheels: The Story of a
Princess Tomboy and Her Quest for Sanity and the Fountain of Youth
By
Gory Dreadmond
When
Sasha came to me and asked me if I would write about a piece about why a
40-year old woman rides her bike, I thought, "HECK YES!"
Writing
and cycling! Yays all around!
Then I
thought...
Hmmmm...Why
exactly DO I ride my bike?
I mean,
I know I ride for the obvious benefits of fitness, health, and vanity, but did
I have a deeper reason?
Not
really.
I mean…YES!
Of
course!
I ride
my bike because I am an undiagnosed lunatic.
If I
didn’t have bike riding as an outlet, I would lose my bleeping mind…cry a lot,
eat my emotions, and possibly cause bodily damage to others.
I am
forty (4-0) years old and started to feel really old and useless when I was 30
and pregnant.
In the
middle of my pregnancy, I had an overwhelming urge to get back on the bike
after a 16 or 17 year hiatus.
I mean,
I was never a bike racer or anything cool like that when I was a kid, but I
rode everywhere and I rode long.
Once I
became an adult, I was like those crabby-ass adults in the Frosted Mini-Wheats
commercials…and I REALLY wanted to be the kid.
My
then-husband took his Cannondale hybrid (He
is 6’1” and I am 5’6” so that was a good option, yeah? No, it was not.) apart
to get it ready for me to ride when the baby was born instead of getting my own
bike that would actually fit and also be ride-able. It stayed apart in pieces on the basement
floor for another 18 months. I left.
I
finally got back on the bike when I was 32; I felt 80.
My
rather small A-cups were even saggy and my ass just sort of hung off my back
and drooped to my leg tops.
(I paint a lovely
picture, no?)
I
wasn’t overweight at that time (though I
had been many other times in my life), which is why the whole “ass
situation” was even more disturbing. I always pretended like this did not
bother me when in fact I was freaking right the fuck out.
I
started riding and immediately, I became an asshole.
I mean,
it was pretty instantaneous as I rode my sweet assed 5-yr-old hand-me-down MTB
around Forest Park like I was effing boss yelling , “LEFT!” and freaking the
shit out of rollerbladers and baby-jogging mommies.
I was a
dick. Actually, I was the second worst kind of dick (the worst being the garbage-dick variety. EWWWW!) because I didn’t
even realize I was a dick. Yep; those are the second worst kinds of dicks.
Believe that.
I
eventually chilled the fuck out when I bought a road bike and got the hell out
of the park.
That
bike brought me back to my childhood and I would smile and giggle like a freak
show as I rode along dodging giant SUV’s and soccer moms.
I
became obsessed with riding.
It was
all could talk about.
I felt
exactly like those dudes who have a mid-life crisis and buy a canary yellow
Corvette…except I was asshole enough to feel like my bean could give their
tic-tac peens a run for the money.
(See what I mean? I am a
dick. Still.)
When I
was 36, I threw myself into cx racing and that was it.
Holy
shit!
It was
like being in Kindergarten AND in college at the same time!
I could
play in mud (and it was encouraged)
and they handed out cupcakes and booze!
If I
would have discovered this when I was young, I wouldn’t have kids right now…
…or I
would have 9 filthy kids because I would have been in a constant state of drunk
and sugar-high and down for a party.
*shudders at thought*
Now
that I am forty (4-fucking-zero), I have the wisdom/balance that I didn’t have
a few years ago and have purchased a bike for everything (EVERYTHING) and have
made them each into a “boyfriend”.
SCHWING!
Once I
noticed the (free) benefits to my ass from cycling (like tone and lift), I
started to use different bikes to work out different body parts.
I still
have not figured out how to get bigger boobies while riding, but at least with
MTB there is a downhill and they fall forward and look bigger in the race
photos.
I ride
my cx bike when I want to party or I want to suffer.
I ride
my MTB when I want to clear my head, be at peace, or suffer.
I ride
my road bike when I want to zone out, it’s raining, my friends are being pussies,
I am injured, the sun is not up, or I want to mentally suffer and put things in
perspective.
My
bikes are sexy and constant.
Because
I can mix it up, I am never bored.
They
keep me from buying sports cars, liposuction, Botox, and vibrators.
Riding
is the single thing that I do that doesn’t make my kids roll their eyes at me
like I don’t get it. I get it.
I feel
sexy, happy, and strong on my bike.
That last
bit is a huge deal to a paper-pushing Ops geek whose most exciting thing some
days is when a balance sheet comes together perfectly or MS Vista does not
crash.
Why do
I ride my bike at 40?
I am a
post-menopausal, hormonal nightmare with a full-time job, a college kid about
to turn 21 and a 10-year-old female child hitting puberty, two dogs who constantly
hump each other, and an ugly minnow that we hoped was a tadpole but isn’t.
Why
wouldn’t I ride my bike?
The
better question is, why AREN’T you riding yours?
