My origin story as an adult cyclist, the ride that brought me back into the fold, occurred on a small residential street in Midtown Memphis in 1985, behind the pro music store in Memphis, Strings and Things. I worked in their drum department, called The Drum Stand. My boss there was a John Bonham look-alike, provided John Henry Bonham had red hair to his shoulders and stood 6-foot-6. Okay, maybe not, but he sure sounded like him. Big Dave was called Big Dave because, but also because he has one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever encountered.
Big Dave was leaving Memphis to go to a big drum company as their new CEO. From retail manager to CEO. Neat trick. Show your friends. And while everyone at Strings and Things was psyched for him to have such a great opportunity, we were all broken-hearted over his departure.
Big Dave was less my boss than my mentor. He saw me in a way, saw passion, promise and potential in me, when few others did. Under him, I grew. The last day I saw him in Memphis, he took me out to his truck to show me the old cruiser he’d just bought used for $50 and was going to take with him to Connecticut.
He pulled it out and pushed it into my hands. “Go for a ride,” he said. It was a bike. You didn’t have to ask twice. How long had it been since I’d last been on a bike? Five years? Six? No, don’t answer.
I turned the pedals over a few times and then I was rolling down a gentle grade, the wind sifting through my long hair, the summer air parting, my T-shirt flapping. There’s a sublime quality to that first ride back after a long break. Something in our brain stem lights up, something that had gone forgotten in the interim.
As I sailed down the road, my first thought was, “This is awesome.” Not an original thought, but an essential thought, inescapable in its truth as, “I’m hungry.” My second thought was a question. “Why did I stop doing this?”
My third thought changed the course of my life. “I’m gonna buy a bike.”
My return after a long time off the bike was also during early adult hood. I had probably ridden a bike in the prior 5-10 years, but it wasn’t a regular thing in any way. For me my return to the bike happened after I tore the ACL and MCL in my left knee while playing soccer. After surgery, rehab involved spinning on a stationary bike. That led to riding outside on whatever bike I had available to me. It took me two years for my knee to heal to the point where I could run again. During those two years the only two cardio activities I could do (that I enjoyed) were bike and swim. In those two years I became a cyclist and a swimmer. 25 years later I’m still doing both. I wish I hadn’t had the injury, but without it, I probably wouldn’t have found the bike in the way I did and it wouldn’t have shaped my adult life the way it has. For that, I’m thankful.
It’s amazing the things we go through that we would have preferred not to go through that ultimately lead to positive changes in our life. The things that lead us to therapy are much the same.
Jim Pelkie – A friend from grad school in Rolls, MO, had returned to school after having worked for a bit, was an avid cyclist. We used to talk about some of the rides he did. I had ridden for fun and transport through college but nowhere near the big miles he talked about. He told me there was a bike at a garage sale so I bought it in 1988. I hadn’t been off the bike for too many years but didn’t have one in Missouri, having grown up in upstate NY. I haven’t quit the bike since.
Rolla, MO
Someone needs to buy Jim a beer. Not necessarily you, but someone, because I bet he inspired more than just you.