I got a bike. And I’m so excited about it, it’s borderline embarrassing. My bike ownership history isn’t a long and winding one, so maybe that’s why I’m so over the moon. Back when I first moved to the Beach, give or take a year or two, I got a purple bike. Like three months later, someone stole it out of the backyard of the apartment I was living in. To this day, when I see a purple frame, I mentally question, “Is that my bike?”
Prior to that, the last bike I owned I got when I was 12. I was living in Loveland, Ohio, which is just outside of Cincinnati, aka the City of Seven Hills. It was a 10-speed with handles that rolled around. And it was red. I’d pedal like a demon up those hills to the store for Lemonheads and Slushees with my friends, and then coast all the way back home.
These days, I’m biking Betsy—that’s my beautiful bike’s name—to yoga and then for juice and a stop at the green market after, all the while kicking an early ’90s Spotify playlist to keep me company. I’ve officially dubbed Wednesdays bike day, so hump day has taken on a whole new meaning. As a result, my shoulders are super tan and I’m squeezing some extra cardio into my day. Woo hoo endorphins.