Tour de France

You may have never ridden a bicycle, but you surely are hearing about this 96th running of the Tour de France bicycle race. American Lance Armstrong, who won the race seven years in a row, brought it to the forefront of the consciousness of most Americans.

For me, however, it is quite different. I watch the Tour in wonder... how do these guys do it?

I bought my first bicycle 67 years ago. Raised on a farm in Missouri, it was a long way from home to anywhere I wanted to go. No one will ever know how badly I wanted a bicycle, but buying food and other basic life necessities sucked up all the family resources in the 1930s. It was impossible for my parents to afford a bicycle for me.

I used to run down those country roads, holding my hands in front of me, as if I were holding on to handlebars, stepping high to imitate the leg motion of riding the pedals of a bike.

Finally, in 1941, I managed to earn and save a few dollars. Six, as a matter of fact! A friend of mine who had just turned old enough to get a driver's license, had grown tired of his bicycle and said he would sell it for eight dollars. Somehow my mother scraped two dollars from the family living cache, and we went to consummate the deal. My friend was not at home, but his mother took the eight dollars and gave me the bike. An old Schwinn, fat tire model. God I loved that bike.

I have owned several bikes since then. This morning, like every morning, I headed out on my little Trek mountain bike for a 45-minute ride. It was gorgeous at 5:30 a.m.! In the west, the full moon was hanging low in the sky, turning a bit orange as it neared the horizon. To the east, the sun was climbing behind the Organ mountains, painting the overhanging clouds a wonderful, glowing neon orange. The temperature was 76º. Breeze about 5 mph. Life was good. This morning my average speed was 8.6 miles per hour. Top speed was 16.5. Duration of ride was 0:45:25. Total distance, 6.5 miles. I thought about the riders in the Tour, averaging over 25 miles per hour for many hours. How do they do it?

None of my early bikes had an odometer. The odometer on my current Trek is nearing 4,000 miles. My other Trek has logged over 6,000 miles. Ten thousand miles - like coast-to-coast three times. That's a lot of wonderful hours on a bike.

When my youngest daughter was about eight years old, She had a bike... they weren't fancy in those days, and probably a real chore to pump up hills. I rolled out my latest Schwinn, a 3-speed model I had won in a contest, and took her for a ride. Foolishly I headed us out on a two-lane highway and ended up riding perhaps 20 miles round trip.

Our turn-around point was an ancient Indian burial ground a local farmer had discovered and turned into a bit of a tourist attraction. We left him a souvenir from our radio station. Years later, as an adult, she re-visited that place and found that the owner still had the souvenir we had given him. He returned it to her.

I still shudder to think of all that could have gone wrong on that long ride with that little girl, but she never complained once. Lance Armstrong would have been proud!

When my youngest son was about the same age, I bought him his first bike. He was really having trouble getting up even the smallest hills. Upon close examination, I discovered that the crank, the pedals, were equipped with a plastic sleeve, not a ball bearing. Ouch. We bought him a small Schwinn, and his riding improved immeasurably. Today, at 36, he owns a quality road bike and rides every day that weather and his schedule permit.

Riding a bicycle is great exercise. But it is so much more than that. This morning I saw three jack rabbits and two cottontails, along with the moon set and the sun rise. If you own one of those stationary indoor bikes, sell the damn thing and get yourself out on the road. Early morning, if possible! What a way to start a day!

Who knows, maybe you'll see this eighty year old kid soaking up the joy of riding his own bike!