Sunday morning. Sitting at the concrete bleachers of the river park, I saw several people walking their dogs, couples playing badminton, some joggers, a family eating spaghetti meals in carton boxes, and dozens of bikers going back and forth along the banks. I thought it was such a nice way to end the week.
After half an hour of getting some fresh air and observing the park-goers, I picked my bike up and started to ride again, homebound. I took a different route this time and was delighted to drop by a cluster of aesthetic restaurants in the neighboring city. They were still closed, just perfect to take some Instagram photos.
These are just some of the small wonders I discovered since I started biking again last year, among thousands of other enthusiasts. It may not be under the best of circumstances, but I am glad to be able to take up the hobby which I have put off for so many years.
Biking indeed has never been so popular – some for leisure, some for a way of life – which paved the way for more bike lanes, safer roads, and spaces for bikers in a lot of cities.
I officially learned how to bike when I was already 16 years old. I started late because that was the only time my mom was able to buy me a real bike. It was a BMX bike. Though I knew how to ride a bike with a sidecar, I never had the chance to train with a solo as a kid. Come to think of it, I was better off learning how to bike when I was a little taller so I didn’t risk falling off and getting injured. In just a few minutes, I was biking like I’ve known it all my life. I remember it was after I graduated from high school and stopped studying for a year because the family couldn’t afford to send me to college. I spent my days biking, especially when I needed to run some errands. When I finally got to college and the family eventually moved to the city, I used my bike to avoid paying fares going out of the village and parked my bike in a relative’s house until I got back from school again. Eventually, I didn’t bike anymore and then some kids from the neighborhood bought my old, rusty first bike.
Biking along memory lane
My sister has fonder memories of biking. Our grandfather whom we called “Ama” used to bike to bring and pick her up from kindergarten. That was like their special bond. Their photo together on a bike will always be one of our special mementos. Our mom who never learned how to bike said that she’s always been impressed by her father for having such a skill.
Now that I’ve started biking again, I realize that there’s much I needed to learn. I didn’t know about gears, specs, attire, and even road rules. And I also found out that owning a mountain bike is a lot more expensive these days, with regular tune-up and maintenance, just like owning a car.
I get fascinated with people being able to bike for almost the entire day – across cities and provinces, even reaching over a hundred kilometers. I’m not at their level yet but I am equally enthralled with the places I’ve been within the city and nearby towns – the river park that I haven’t really explored before, a small corner cafe that opened a few months back, the majestic water dam just an hour away and a hidden trail to waterfalls that I never knew existed. You also get to meet new people who have rediscovered biking too.
Biking is freedom
But more than discovering places and learning new things, biking also became an escape. An escape from isolation, from sadness, and from idleness. There’s a certain fleeting feeling when you are never at the same place. The wind blowing on your face as you pass by through time and space. Biking, more than anything, is freedom. Before heading home, I saw a small boy, probably about three years old, his parents walking behind him. He was riding his yellow three-wheeler, just like the one I had when I was a toddler. He has a long way to go before being able to ride his first bike.
But I am pretty sure he is already collecting many precious memories, as he rides along in this journey called life. Ride on and ride safe.
