Flashback to Christmas 1991. I was apparently a really good girl that year because Santa brought me what I considered to be quite possibly the best gift ever.
Black with hot pink wheels and laces, Rollerblades were the only thing on my list. It didn’t matter that two feet of snow usually blankets northwest Minnesota until April and that there isn’t an indoor roller skating rink within 70 miles of Hallock. It made no difference that I couldn’t actually Rollerblade for months because I wanted those sassy wheels so badly I could barely stand it.
So what did I do? Well, before the reams of wrapping paper were even cleaned up on Christmas morning, I laced those babies up and skated circles in our one-car garage until I was dizzy. That and an occasional blade on the hardwood floors in our house (mom was never pleased when that happened… “Eeeeeeeriiiiiiiiin! You’re leaving marks all over the kitchen floor!”) tied me over until spring… barely.
When I wasn’t wearing them, the blades were sitting in my bedroom, taunting me, reminding me that it was 27 below outside and that I was exiled inside for what seemed like an eternity. Spring. Could. Not. Arrive. Fast. Enough!
And as soon as the streets were mostly clear and dry (this was probably in late March, right before another snow storm hit), I couldn’t wait any longer. Those streets – still covered with sand and gravel put down for traction during the winter – were mine. Not a day went by that I didn’t wear them. I glided up and down Douglas, forward and backward down Birch. I lived in those slick black and hot pink Rollerblades all summer long.
Fast forward to 2010. While not a Christmas gift (but, whoa, would this be an amazing gift), I am having similar (if not more antsy) feelings about my Trek Madone (hint-hint for next year, mom and dad: A tri bike would probably be the best gift ever, even better than Rollerblades).
It’s currently sitting in the hallway near my kitchen, simultaneously collecting dust and calling my name. It is begging to be pedaled. And I am dying to go for a spin.
So, unless I buy a trainer (but really, it would pale in comparison to riding outside), I will continue to count down the days until that inaugural 2011 ride. 
Freedom and bliss on wheels…
No comments:
Post a Comment