sports

Freedom Is a Bikeway

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham, daily bike routine, Syracuse, NY

I hop on my trusty friend with white iPods blaring favorite tunes when all of a sudden, Jimmie Allen’s “Freedom Was A Highway” comes on.  As the bike path below my rotating tires catches my eye, I switch up the lyrics singing “Freedom Is a Bikeway,” and bike on, and on, and on. Almost too delirious in joy to stop when my legs are tired. If it’s a sunny 44-degree-day in Syracuse, NY in the middle of winter and I’m biking, I’m ecstatic and I’m going longer than I think – I ride on pure happiness.

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham, Alopecia Biking Girl

Learning ride a bike is almost as elementary as learning to walk, tying one’s shoes, and putting on a jacket. Everyone remembers getting on their first tricycle for the first time or their yellow banana bike (I might be dating myself here) or their first ten speed roadster and heading off down a driveway or street. When we become parents, we remember teaching their kids how to ride a bike, praying they don’t tip over and take a patch of skin off their knees that might require iodine, like we had applied to our scrapes.

Tracy Chamberlain Higginbotham - Bike West Shore of Onondaga Lake

I associate freedom with biking because of the way it makes me feel – and maybe you too. The speed of moving faster than walking, wind blowing in one’s hair, moving along, taking in the sights, and feeling simply free and in control of one’s life for a moment or two. It’s not so different for me as a 58-year-old woman taking off for her lunch hour to bike an easy 9-miles or 15-miler if I have the time. It was the suave I needed when I became a bald woman four years ago because no one cared what someone looks like when they are biking or doing sports, and on my bike I found my new image and myself again.

It was on my bike four years ago that the passion of riding enveloped me. I had been a runner for 15 years eventually running in the Boston Marathon on a charity team when a simple tear to my hip muscle one July day stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t run forward. I was told to rest but I couldn’t. Soon I discovered my hip didn’t hurt when I biked.  My natural Italian energy soars every day even only drinking half-caf coffee; and as you know what goes up, must come out – or down – depending on how you look at it.

Taking to my bike instead of my running shoes, reminded me of the freedom of skiing downhill when speed was the goal – of mine at least. The faster I could go, the happier I was. I tucked and bombed it out, never wiping out. Biking down hills fast puts me right back on the slopes. Biking up bigger hills eventually taught my legs and lungs to be stronger. Biking became addictive and remains so for me, so much so I bike all year long in snowy Central New York if the roads are clear enough.

So yes, for me, and hopefully for you some day, biking will be your freedom highway.  Start biking more and let me know if you need someone to go with you! I’m available. 

West Lake Trail, Onondaga Lake Trail, Syracuse, NY