The Bike That Started It All

The day before Thanksgiving, everyone rushes out of the office oddly early. I found myself staying until 4 pm deliberating if I wanted to pull another financial report, or wait until Monday. 
Earlier in the day, my mother had text me to tell me she got a new bike - matter of fact - the same bike that I currently ride thanks to Trek, a Domane 5.2 (whom I have dubbed Delilah) - her excitement about the new bike made me finally decide to close my computer and hit the road on two wheels [recently, I was told I needed to give my legs some time off - however - my brain has a hard time being on the same page].


I was eighteen when I got my first road bike. It was a graduation gift from my dad - the ultra athletic, handsome, dark haired man that was seen riding his bike all over the small ski-towns we call 'home' while I was growing up.

I remember be excited about the bike; I had only four my love for two-wheel 18 short months before when my mom tossed me on a mountain bike. I have to admit, I may have set my expectations a little too high and was thinking I was going to get a new car...which would ultimately make me the coolest kid in my freshmen class at college, while...neither of those things happened - instead - I had a road bike, a car that wouldn't start, and I was lost in a sea of confused college kids trying to find themselves.

The Cannondale sat in my storage unit for almost an entire year in Reno, packed neatly along side my newly acquired downhill bike and my cross-country bike. My best friend Casey and I shared the unit, we always talked a big game about going out for a road ride - I think that happened once our freshman year. Eventually the bike made the trek back to Colorado with me for the summer, and I decided to give it a try. I found out that some of the girls I was racing XC against were spending more time on road than dirt. I learned how to change a flat, and the benefits of having a few different front rings.

The bike came back to school with me, and soon I found myself riding every weekend with my dad. He would take me to the bottom of well renown climbs in the Tahoe area and essentially say See you at the top. Now, to me this meant only one thing...I HAD to be the first one to the top. That Cannondale carried me swiftly up numerous climbs - that bike also made me realize my love for this weird idea of road biking. In my mind, I was far too young and attractive to be riding a road bike. 

The bike was this weird green; the shade didn't match anything. To make matters worst, I had a red helmet and a yellow Marmot rain coat that was 2 sizes too big - so I looked like a Christmas fanatic 365 days a year. All I remember, was this bike had ultergra and that was a big f*cking deal ( however this term meant nothing to me, because I didn't squat about gear and components)! 

The day finally came, where it was time to trade in my trusted Cannondale R500. I can't remember when I sold it - or who I sold it to, hopefully it found a good home. I think graduated to a carbon road bike - a Scott CR1. But, that is a entirely different story...

Sending Love,


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