Today I am a cyclist. It’s hard to believe that a mere 73 days ago I wasn’t one, or at least I wasn’t calling myself one. But today I am. I bought my first road bike, what I’ve been referring to as my first real bike, 73 days ago, which was the catalyst for adding this new category to my life resume.  In addition to being a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a runner and a world-changer, among other things, I am now a cyclist.

Yet, despite my very recent self-classification as a cyclist, I came to a surprising realization while riding the country roads of Georgia last weekend: this is not my first real bike and I may actually have been a cyclist at a much earlier point in life than I’ve been giving myself credit for. In fact, when I think back to the noteworthy bikes I have pedaled in my 36 years, they each conjure up distinct memories and eras and were as much a part of my life as the one I have now.

My first bike meant freedom. It was a powder blue Schwinn 10-speed and it awaited me in the living room one Christmas morning. I remember the moment I looked back to see my dad not holding onto the seat to help me balance as he had done so many times that day, but rather standing in the street some 50 yards behind me smiling proudly. In that moment I knew I could do anything. And then I was unstoppable. My universe expanded exponentially on those two wheels and some of my favorite childhood memories involve all-day summer cycling adventures with my older brother Sean.

That blue 10-speed met my needs for several years, transporting me to and from friends’ houses, shuttling me back and forth to junior high, keeping me connected to the world beyond my neighborhood. When it eventually sold at a garage sale years later, I was sad to see it go but comforted in the fact that it was now another young girl’s first bike. I hope it gave her the same wind-in-her-hair-freedom that it gave me for so many years. 

High school meant a driver’s license and borrowing the family minivan or catching a ride with friends. I may have even been too cool to ride a bike, it’s possible. But before long I was off to college at the University of California, Davis, which I believe has more bicycles per capita than cars - no, really – and I soon found myself back on two wheels. I can’t remember exactly where I got the hybrid bicycle I rode throughout my college years. It may have been a hand-me-down from my older brother. It may have been a purchase from another student. I’m not sure. What I do remember though, is that I immediately needed to purchase fenders for it so I wouldn’t get the famous “freshman stripe” on rainy days.

That college hybrid got me to and from class, to and from parties, to and from rugby practice and to and from my job at the UC Davis Hog Barn. On weekend afternoons I would often ride it to a quiet corner of the campus arboretum and read for hours in the shade. And just like I’m not sure how the hybrid came into my life, I’m not exactly sure how it went out of my life. I may have sold it to another student. I may have given it to my younger brother. I don’t remember a distinct parting of ways.

Shortly after college I found myself riding a rusty black cruiser in Noceto, Italy, where I was working for a racehorse trainer. That bike was older than I was and I’m sure it had stories to tell. I mostly used it to commute back and forth between one end of the farm where I lived in an apartment and the other end of the farm where the horses lived in a stable. My most memorable experience with the rusty black cruiser was on a warm Saturday evening in July when I went out dancing with friends.  Knowing the main gates would be locked before I got home - meaning I’d have to walk the ¾ mile back to my apartment in the dark - I stashed the bike in some bushes just inside the gates. When my friends dropped me off in the wee hours of the morning, I climbed the gates and rode that old bike back home. I rode barefoot, on a dusty road in Italy, under the watchful eye of a very full moon.

Throughout my late 20s and early 30s I remained mostly bikeless. From time to time I’d borrow a bike from a friend and, living in Seattle, it seemed like an available bike was never more than a few degrees of separation away. I often saw spandex-wearing cyclists zoom past me when I was out for a long run on the Burke-Gilman Trail, but I never anticipated that I would one day join their ranks. And then I did.

My current bike, the one I purchased 73 days ago, is the one I’m crediting with making me a cyclist. At least one of the spandex-wearing kind. Her name is Luna Bella Solstice - yes, she has a name – and she is a Specialized Secteur Sport.  I never imagined myself calling a bike ‘beautiful’, but she is. She’s light and fast and graceful. And beautiful. And with this beautiful bike I am training for the La Bella Preme Women’s Cycling Challenge. In fact, this event is the reason I bought this bike and the reason I became a cyclist.

La Bella Preme is an event designed by women cyclists, for women cyclists. It’s about being strong and elegant, fierce and feminine. The emphasis on teamwork and camaraderie make this the perfect venue to attempt my longest and hilliest ride yet.  La Bella Preme takes place on Saturday, June 1, in Malibu, CA and starts and ends at Triunfo Creek Vineyards. I’m not sure if I’m more excited about the riding or about the catered dinner and wine that will follow. There are three routes to choose from – 11 miles, 31 miles, 63 miles – and I’ve chosen the longest one.  Luna Bella Solstice and I are up for the challenge.

I know not where my cycling journey will lead me after La Bella Preme. And I’m starting to realize that it doesn’t really matter whether I’ve been a cyclist for 73 days or whether I’ve been a cyclist ever since that Christmas morning so many years ago when my dad first let go of the seat and set me free on my powder blue 10-speed. What matters most is that I find freedom and joy through riding and I plan to chase that wind-in-my-hair freedom for as long as my legs will let me. My name is Suzanne Mooney and I am and was a cyclist.  

About Suzanne Mooney

Suzanne Mooney is a Fundraising Consultant at Event 360, where she and her colleagues use events to help non-profit organizations make the world a better place. When she’s not riding her new bike you can usually find Suzanne training for a marathon or spending time with her husband and two geriatric dogs.  A recent transplant to Savannah, GA, Suzanne is having fun practicing her Southern accent and exploring her new city. She’s excited to be heading back to the west coast very soon to participate in La Bella Preme and she’d love to have you join her. Click here to send Suzanne an email or visit www.labellapreme.com for more information or to register. 

That phrase never quite fit for me.  It is supposed to mean that you have never lost an acquired skill and that reclaiming it will be as easy as “riding a bike.”  Riding a bike, for me, was never like “riding a bike”.  I struggled.

I struggled the first time as a child.  I wasn’t (nor am I now) particularly coordinated.  I wanted to ride a bike, desperately.  I saw my playmates riding and longed to join them.  I had a freakishly coordinated friend who was riding a unicycle while I still had training wheels. I wanted to accomplish that childhood rights of passage.  But it didn’t happen as quickly as I thought it should.  My father ran along side of me, coaching me with encouraging words.  I felt supported, but not capable. After considerable time and practice, I eventually learned to ride my bike.

I started to ride again about three years ago, many, many years later.  When I first got back on the bike, I told myself that it’s “just like riding a bike”—except it still wasn’t.  I was shaky, fell off, ran into things.  I bought bandaids. It was like being seven years old all over again, but not in a good way.

As I learned as a child, this was not one of my natural skills.  I decided that I was going to do as much as I could, and not be too hard on myself.  This meant that I walked my bike up too-hard hills and between obstacles, despite what my more coordinated ride-mates might be doing.

The thing that helped me the most was remembering Calvin. 

Calvin was one of one of my young students. Even though he was only 4 years old—he was very wise.  He was a hearty boy, but wasn’t much of a risk-taker.  He was very bright, but not particularly coordinated.  One day, he was watching his classmates play hopscotch and was encouraged to join in.  Try as he might, he didn’t quite have the balance and couldn’t hop on one foot.  As children do, they started pointing this out and started to tease him.  Calvin was also very sensitive and his feelings could get hurt easily. 

Not this time.  

He drew himself up to his full 4 year-old height, widened his stance, placed his hands on his hips and loudly announced, “I can’t do it today, but I WILL!”

Beautiful!  Bravo, Calvin!  I was so proud of him at that moment!  I was also envious.  Why couldn’t I have that same sense of self?  How could I learn (and know deeply) that my limitations of the moment did not define my entire experience or my future?

In the beginning I just took short rides—to my local grocery store, less than a mile away.  Although the distance was short, it defeated me every time—there was that damn hill.  Each time I was determined to conquer it, and each time I got off my bike and walked it to the top.  Eventually I mastered the fear of looking down long enough to shift.  Who knew this would make things so much easier?  After that ground-breaking discovery, I could make that trip easily.   Next it was riding to the beach –a flatter route, but with discouraging headwinds either coming or going.  I checked that box after a while.  The 8-mile trek (each way) to the farmer’s market used to take forever, until I stopped thinking about how far it still was to reach the destination and decided to enjoy the scenery.

On my bike I feel more connected.  I’m more connected to people, because I interact with them on the ride, I even connect with people in cars because I look them in the eye so I know they see me and won’t inadvertently run me over.  I’ m also more connected to my environment.  I’ve never heard anyone talk about the smells.  The smells are amazing!  I know who is having a charcoal fire to cook food from those who have a wood fire for warmth in the fire pits along PCH.  My favorite is discovering which neighbors have jasmine blooming in their yard.  I can tell, just by taking a breath as I ride by.  It is intoxicating!  I know so much more about my neighborhood than I could ever know from the seat of a car.

I borrow a page from Calvin’s book all the time now.  I’d love to report that I’ve become a daredevil on wheels—but I’m not, I never will be.  But I am comfortable riding a bike.  I’ve ridden hundreds of miles.  Riding has become a pleasure, not something to be feared.  I’ve not only gained strength, but also confidence

My bike is a bike, but also a metaphor.  When I am trying something new, or am trying to reclaim past skills, I try not to heap hot coals on myself if I don’t get it right immediately (even though I still secretly hope I will).  Calvin’s lesson comes to me in those moments of fear and frustration.  I widen my stance, put my hands on my hips and tell myself “I can’t today, but I WILL!”

And I do.

About Terri Ryder

Terri has a Master’s in Social Work (MSW) from Boston University and a Master’s in Education (EdM) from Harvard University, specializing in risk and prevention for children and youth.  She has completed the League of American Bicyclist's Traffic 101 bike safety course and is an active member of Huntington Beach Bicycle Advocates (HuBBA) and Women on Bikes SoCal. A dynamic and innovative educator she offers private coaching for those with special needs. Terri is collaborating with with Women on Bikes SoCal to create a version of the new "Street Savvy" adult bicycle safety course for tween and teen audiences to be available for spring/summer 2013.

Shereef Moustafa: I got my first bicycle Christmas of 1973. I was about 6 1/2 years old. My father, who never had a bike himself and not very handy with tools, tells me he was up way past midnight into early Christmas morning trying to assemble the boxed Swinger bike he picked up from JC Penny.

SM: You want your kids to be confident riders. But, confident doesn't mean reckless. Confident means they feel safe on the road because they know the rules and they know what to look out for. Like most things, it's important that we model the behavior we want to see from them. Ride with them and put them in the street when you feel they are ready. Start on a quiet residential street and work up to busier areas. Confidence doesn't come overnight, but when it does it's awesome.

About Shereef Shereef Moustafa is a resident of Long Beach and a bicycle commuter. He's a busy father of school aged kids and enjoys volunteering in community events. His ongoing portrait project of Long Beach residents and their bikes can be found at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shereefmoustafa/sets/72157628087697796/]]>http://www.womenonbikessocal.org/bike-love-blog/rss-comments-entry-16602342.xmlBike Love BlogBike Love BlogsKellie MorrisWomen On Bikes SoCalMelissa BalmerTue, 24 Apr 2012 03:13:36 +0000http://www.womenonbikessocal.org/bike-love-blog/2012/4/23/leaving-on-my-epic-journey-by-kellie-morris.html1055058:15959833:15970282

I’m leaving on my Epic Journey May 17, 2012: a bike ride across the USA

I’m a 58 year old grandmother who has been married for 30 years.  My husband and I live in North Long Beach.   I started cycling in earnest in 2002 when I trained and rode in the AIDSride: a 7 day fundraiser ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles.  I kept riding locally but missed being on the road for multi-day trips.  So I rode the 8 day Amgen Coast Classic (a ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles) in 2006 and 2007.  My husband also rode the 2007 Amgen Coast Classic with me in 2007. These were fundraisers for arthritis research and treatment.   

I met Pat Messer and her husband during the Amgen Coast Classic 2006 and we became close friends.  She was the one who shared her dream to ride across the USA.  I thought, in 2006, that she was nuts.  Especially since she was planning on camping! I am a serious city gal and staying Motel 6 is my idea of roughing it.  I do NOT camp!  Ugh! Sleeping in a tent! Bugs and dirt! No 15 minute hot showers? Wearing the same clothes day after day? Squatting in the woods?  No way!!!!!!!

But life has a way of changing the “no ways” in our lives. I was laid off my well-paying job as an IT Project Manager, in 2009 and was then unable to work due to illness. That illness was diagnosed in 2010 as mixed connective tissue disease: an autoimmune disease. While I was seeing to my health, I realized that there are some things more important than getting ahead, making money and living comfortably. My husband and I have made a major downsize and now live a much more simple life. We have come to cherish what cannot be taken away from us: love, close friendships, building memories, growing emotionally and spiritually and serving others.

Now I could hear Pat as she shared her dream with me. I began to have the same dream. I knew that we could work well together: we would have to since we would spend 90 days together for this ride. So the seed of an idea that she had planted many years ago was starting to take root.

On May 17th, we start our 90 day Epic Journey: a bicycle ride across the USA, from Maine to Washington state. 4200 miles in 90 days.  We will haul all our gear in trailers attached to our bikes and camp under the stars every night.  You can follow us now and during the journey on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/2trikesnbike

I have learned a lot from Pat about how to plan and execute an exciting Epic Journey. I would like this trip to give vision for many other people:

• That you can take on this extraordinary physical and mental challenge even though you are pushing 60!
• That you can take on this extraordinary physical and mental challenge even though you suffer from a chronic, painful disease.
• That you can take on this extraordinary physical and mental challenge even though there are few role models in the African-American community who cycle!

They say that knowing how things work is the basis for appreciation, and that therefore, you need to understand something in order to appreciate it. It wasn’t until I was a sixteen-year-old being driven into Belmont Shore, that I truly recognized the meaning of this saying. I was already impatient with an eagerness to ride my bike. Of course, I didn't actually own the bike yet; I was on my way to Jones Bicycles to purchase it. This bike, however, might as well have been mine already. I had entered the shop at least three times preceding this day just to stare at the vehicle I so strongly desired, each time finding a new feature to fall in love with. But today was the day that I didn't have to walk out of the shop empty-handed.

I felt my heart race as I viewed the storefront and couldn’t even wait for the car to park before I hopped out. I entered the shop and tried to make the transaction as quickly as possible, and I finally held the bike in my hands, admiring the beauty and comprehending the fact that it belonged to me. Then the salesman asked if I had ridden a bike like this before. This bike, a single-speed draft, was one that I had never actually ridden. I had been used to beach cruisers, but I was naive and assumed that all bikes rode the same way, so I confidently responded that I had, despite the fact that I hadn't. However, I must not have been very convincing because the salesman smiled and suggested that I take it for a test spin.

From the moment that I tossed my right leg over the bike, I could tell that it was going to be difficult, and the clatter of fallen racks in the store was all the proof I needed. It moved a lot faster than I was used to, and the seat was definitely a lot higher than the average beach cruiser, which forced me to bend down to reach the handlebars. But I am the type who enjoys a challenge, so I went through with the purchase anyway, refusing to let anything get in the way of my bike and me (even the fact that I could hardly ride it). To anyone else, this might have been foolish, but that eagerness took hold of me, and before I knew it, I was leaving the bike shop’s scent of metal and elbow grease with handlebars in hands.

Since I was dropped off and assumed that it would be an easy trip, I intended on riding the bike home. But as it turned out, the journey was anything but easy. With each stoplight, I nearly flung myself over the handlebars from braking too hard, and at the time, I wasn’t used to riding a bike so tall. Still, conscious of the danger I was facing and the law I was breaking, I continued to ride my bike through the congested sidewalks of Belmont Shore, hearing indistinct conversations (and sometimes, angry pedestrians) as I passed. My annoyance had been building up since the moment I sat on the bike seat, and not even four blocks in, I just wanted to run these people over.

Then as I reached the quiet residential streets, my mood changed completely. Without pedestrians in my way, all anxiety disappeared, and at this point, it was just my bike and me, cruising the streets of Long Beach. Yes, I was still a bit of an amateur at braking and adjusting to the bike‘s size, but I had about thirty blocks to perfect the skill. By the time I made it home, I had the confidence of a pro and, at some point, began to ride in the streets (which are actually much easier to ride on than the sidewalk, I learned).

What started as a dream gone wrong turned into a learning experience. Ever since that summer day, I've been in love with my single-speed draft, and just as the quote suggested, I truly appreciated it after learning how it worked. Two years later, the bike is still holding strong, and not a day goes by that I regret my purchase. Nothing, not even inexperience, gets in the way of my bike and me. And that's something learned the day I bought it.

About Nicolette Norris

Nicolette Norris is currently a senior at Renaissance High School for the Arts. She has a passion for journalism and is currently the editor-in-chief of her school newspaper. Nicolette enjoys hanging out with her friends in her spare time and, of course, riding her bike. She will be attending California State University, Long Beach in the fall and intends on majoring in Communications.

How does a gal go from feeling “black and blue” to “in the pink”?

I shifted from bruise to cruise.  A few weeks ago as I was making my way to Seven-Eleven for their stiffly stale Breakfast Sausage muffin, something pink and shiny seemed to glow from the newly opened My Bicycle Shop across the street. I forgot about my growling stomach and got up close and personal with a Cotton Candy stretch vintage Beach Cruiser.  I didn’t know if she was for sale or belonged to someone inside the shop but I knew I needed to pursue. 

Now mind you, I’m not a Pink Person.  My entire wardrobe is black.

Black hat, pants, skirts, dresses, purse, wallet, sunglasses, shoes, socks, gloves, scarves, shawls, sneakers, flip-flops. Black.  My last bike was Black.  I didn’t lock it and it was stolen. I was feeling too black to replace it.  Until now. 

I had suddenly developed Pink Eye.

Inside the shop business was brisk as Cameron, the owner was attending to several customers. There were bikes in various stages of refurbishment, each with a history and a story to tell. I waited and waited for a pause in the dangling conversation of this barbershop bike quartet as to inquire.

I kept a very frequent eye on Cotton Candy as she glistened in the sun outside.

I finally raised my hand to halt the quartet’s harmony and blurted out impatiently:

“Just wanted to know if that bike outside is for sale?” Cameron gave me a thumbs-up as I boldly asked for a test drive.  I got the green light and took a spin.

The bike-love lanes beckoned me along 1^st Street, 2^nd Street, 3^rd & Broadway and beyond.  Feeling “in the pink” on this Cotton Candy Cruiser was the quick cure for my bruised black & blues.

I cruised, I sang. I rang her bell and she rang mine.  I spun and sung a Peddle Medley of Pink’s “I’m coming out so you better get this party started”- interwoven with

“I love to ride my Bicycle, I love to ride my Bike “and ending with a rousing rendition of “C.C.- C. C. Rider. (In tribute to Cotton Candy, now named “C.C.”)

I didn’t want the ride to end and Cameron must have thought I looted the Cruiser.

Feeling as exhilarated as a 12 year old girl living in a cotton-candy world,

I found a friend, an escape from my basic black blahs and a crayon-colored path to the Merry ole Land of Ahhh’s.   

Cameron made me a sweet offer I couldn’t refuse and that bicycle from My Bicycle was now in fact MY bicycle.  There was even icing on the cake as he bestowed her with a classic White Basket. Before leaving the shop I bestowed C. C. with a GOOD lock and learned how to keep her secure. C.C. and me.  We are definitely in the Pink!

And ohhh, the places we’ll go.  More on our new adventures next time.

Till then, go beat the blues and just cruise.

About Helene Weinberg

Helene Weinberg - Creative Being and founder of Out To Lunch Events, is an independent entertainment professional, writer, actor, coach and Cabaret Diva. Find out more at: www.outtolunchevents.com Email: Heleneotl@gmail.com



Valentine's Day was approaching and like for most “holidays” the boyfriend didn’t know what to get me. I am not picky. I will love anything someone gives me, because just the thought alone means the world to me. But he still wanted to get me something thoughtful.  However, I am not very materialistic and don’t NEED anything except for hummus, and Netflix. So this was difficult for him.

Now keep in mind he had bought a bike almost a year ago. The purpose being because he was getting older and skateboarding from my house to his was a good 2.5 miles. Also him skateboarding at night made me a worried wreck. So a bike was more logical for further destinations and my sanity.

Flash back to almost Valentine's Day and its sunny and boyfriend is riding his bike to school and work, and it seems like the rest of Long Beach is too; while I’m stuck in traffic on PCH. Boyfriend had offered to get me a bike earlier so we could ride together, but  I admit I was afraid. I hadn’t ridden a bike since I was five and barely got the training wheels off. However, I became really interested in the styles of bikes. I really enjoyed the beach cruiser look, but I heard they are heavy. I live in a studio so heaving that thing around would be difficult. I then became interested in the town bikes. Some of the older ones were adorable, and they had different speeds which would make pedaling a lot easier.

I found one on Craigslist.org that I fell in love with. She was white, and had a tiny frame. I’m barely 5’1 so I thought she’d be perfect. Slyly suggesting it to the boyfriend he got the hint. Coming home one night he had her leaning against the wall as I walked in. My first thought was “oh, my, she is gorgeous“, and my second thought was, “oh, shit,, I’m actually gonna have to ride this”!

That night my friends and I were celebrating a birthday at Sgt. Peppers. I admit I’m a light weight and after having two gummy bear cocktails I was good. I kept telling everyone about my new bike and how she was vintage and I named her Lulu, because she looked like a Lulu. I even proceeded to drunk text people a picture of Lulu. I apologized the next day, I was just excited. Can you blame me?

Early one morning I psyched myself up and dragged her out to the alley behind my apartment. I’m going to save y’all from the pain, but lets just say it took awhile to gain my balance. Slowly I mastered riding around the block… on the sidewalk.  Then finally brave enough I took her down to the beach and rode for a good hour. I was sore, but loved every moment of it!

I then decided to try and ride around 4^th street. I wanted to get new grips for my handlebars and possibly a basket. Too afraid to ride on 4^th street I took the alley all the way down to 4^th and Cherry. I felt comfortable and fearless.

Then I met Melissa Balmer. I was so infatuated with Women On Bikes So Cal, and the message she was delivering. I love biking and am a huge advocate for women so I thought I’d ask her for an internship. To my surprise she was delighted and said yes! I look forward to my adventures with Women On Bikes, and the adventures I will acquire and ultimately get to share.

About Melissa Bell

A senior at California State University, Long Beach she studies journalism and creative writing. In her spare time she loves to write short stories and poetry. Melissa has had poetry published in JAGed Magazine, and Bank Heavy Press. She has experience as an event writer, as well as, writing adventure pieces for Flasking.com. While, she adores writing she is still unsure of where she will end up with her career. Nonetheless, she knows she wants to do something that she enjoys, rather than something that just pays the rent. Read more...