I Used to be a Daredevil

Tonight, when I was out biking around a lake near my house, with the wind whistling across my face, I was daydreaming about becoming a cyclist. You know--the kind that ride a road bike in spandex and pedal 50 miles or more on a Saturday morning. I've been riding my hybrid bike around leisurely this summer, but would like to go tougher--more confidently, quickly, and aggressively. (I've also been obsessed about converting my bike to electric and then biking around town to do all my errands.)

The kids and I watched the end of the biking portion of a sprint triathlon--AJ competed in his first ever!--and those bikers were coming in so fast. I have my doubts about whether I really could ever develop cycling into a real pursuit. I feel a little nervous about crashes at such high speeds and hills are so intimidating for me.

I was remembering, though, how I used to pedal up to the top of a very steep hill on my orange banana seat bike in my neighborhood in Boise and then just cruise all the way to the bottom, full speed ahead. And I thought back to those Friday nights when my and my mom, dad, and sister would go up to Bogus Basin and ski. I loved the Sunshine trail where I could just ski straight down. N and I would race, and I always won. At least, that's what I remember. I would take every jump and didn't mind the crashes.

Not that I was always jumping off the roof and crashing through the woods. I did a lot of reading and was always pretty nerdy. But, I did do some risky things.

And then I was wondering when I started becoming more cautious. We moved the summer before I started 6th grade. It was such an awkward and self-consious time for me. I felt so uncomfortable in my skin and didn't want to stand out at all. I wanted to wear Rocky Mountain Jeans (not Smacks) and not go to gifted classes. I desparately wanted to wear a bra--like every other girl. Instead, I never took off my powder jacket. There weren't a lot of Mormons and that felt weird. But the time I made it through 9th grade, I finally started settling in and feeling better about myself. But, by that time, I didn't really do any risky things anymore. That was probably the start of it. And I never really did much aggressively on my own to embrace anything risky. Does this follow the Reviving Ophelia thesis?

Anyway, maybe it's time to reclaim some of that.



PS--Thinking about powder jackets really put me on memore lane. I wonder if my parents have any pictures of me in mine. I couldn't find any good online photos of them, except here's a pattern for one. My mom made mine. It was just like the men's shown here, with gray in the middle and maroon on the sleeves with black cuffs and zipper.