In my 30s, I decided to learn to ride a bike. When I was young, I had no one to teach me. My mom remarried after divorce when I was 6. I remembered I was 1 because I was the only kid over 6 who still relied on training wheels. Then my stepdad removed them, but in doing that, I lost interest and 2 in the activity. I was worried I'd fall off.
Not knowing how to ride didn't 3 me initially, until we moved to the suburbs when I was 12 years old, where bicycles were 4 . On 5 to the convenience store to buy candy with my friends, I was always the last to arrive, on foot.
In my early 30s, I remember feeling 6 as I watched young children learn to 7 on bikes. Among them were my neighbors, whom I would occasionally 8 . Then something changed. The fear within was still there, but something much stronger was 9 .
I decided to join a women's bike-riding workshop. There, I stood in an urban park, determined to overcome my 10 . Meeting women from diverse backgrounds, all seeking cycling skills for various reasons, strengthened my 11 . Before long, I was riding 12 .
13 the joy of riding, I bought my own bike, not just for getting around but to 14 lost time back. It wasn't simply a bike; it represented a(n) 15 I missed earlier. I completely engaged myself in the experience, enjoying the scenery and the breeze on my face.
