As I hear the first click of my shoe I stand up and give my first push.
I'm off.
Second click sounds off and both my feet are attached.
I rub my hands against the handle bars to get in a more comfortable position.
Dang. I can already feel sore from this hard seat.
I hear my dad talking. What is he saying?
Right the gears.

I'm suddenly five years old again.
I'm learning how to brake on my bicycle.
My dad is standing infront of me and despite the instructions he is clearly giving me... I keep riding into him.

I'm back. Right here. Right now.
"Do you understand?"
Shoot. What was he saying? Gears right.
I've done this before- it seems as though its been forever.
I don't know what it is, although it has only been a mere two years since my last official ride- I feel its been another life ago.

Its not as though I'm afraid. I've done this before.
The seat is familiar, my fun click in shoes are definitely familiar... its the road.
"I've done this before" I keep telling myself.

The road- its inconsistent surface and unpredictable holes and pumps keep me on my toes.



Two years ago my father would be ahead of me- stronger than me, faster than me- showing me the way. Today, he is behind me, building the muscles that he lost with each mile.



Its been almost 8 months since his stem cell transplant and for him to be back on the bike is amazing.
I remember sitting in the hospital and him saying that aside from being able to spend time with the whole family- he missed being able to cycle and hike with me.
Our first ride consisted of 22 miles. Our second- almost 25.
It's a process, getting your prepared- both mentally and psychically for a ride.

But that time has come. Slowly but surely we have come back.
I'm so grateful to have been able to share the experience with him.





Till next time,
Peace, love and happiness