FanPost

Get the tissue box out


The daughter of a friend had to write an essay for school, what she wrote brought a few tears to my eyes and I truly believe is worth sharing.

Please enjoy this wonderful paper wrote by a teenager on her way to college

" "Don't let go, Daddy!" I remember that magenta Barbie bike I used to learn how to ride. I remember being nervous and scared out of my mind. However, I never imagined that I would love being a cyclist, or that I am lucky enough to share this past time with my dad.

Five years ago, I took up cycling after my dad took me to a cyclocross race in Mercer County. I remember the race being the strangest sight I had ever seen. Riding a bike through the mud and sand, and watching the cyclists jump over obstacles while carrying their bikes seemed almost impossible. Yet, although it was unlike any other sport I’d seen, being the curious person I am, I really wanted to try it. After seeing my excitement, my dad encouraged me to go for it and immediately set up a bike for me to ride. I started out riding a road bike; just the thought of riding on the road was terrifying at first. Your tires are as thin as paper, you wear special shoes that lock you into the pedals (and there isn’t a cyclist who hasn’t fallen over while coming to a stop and unclipping the wrong side!), and you're going thirty miles an hour, downhill, on hard black pavement. Despite the details, once I began to actually ride the bike, it seemed natural and all my fears subsided. Even though riding on the road is fun, cyclocross is my passion. On the bike I traverse the mud and the grass. The competitions take place in the fall and go throughout the winter. The races typically last forty five minutes to an hour, and there are barriers that I jump over and stairs I climb that require me to dismount, carry or roll the bike, and then remount.

The nature that surrounds me makes being a cyclist so calming. For instance, during the spring, bright pink and yellow flowers bloom with their floral scent, and during the fall, orange, red, and yellow leaves paint the trees. It is a visual carnival of colors. I've seen farms with huge barns and miles of corn fields, as well as meadows with luscious grass and the wooded Sourland Mountains. It is almost like I've traveled so many different places when, in reality, I'm only an hour or two away from my house. Then there is the feeling of flying and the wind brushing my face as I glide down the hills, a wonderful reward to the hard climb. Riding not only exercises my body, but my mind as well. Sometimes it takes all my concentration not to stop as my body is begging me to quit.

In brief, riding has become something very special and unique to me, not only because I am the only girl in my high school who does it, but also, and more importantly, because my dad participates with me. This is the last year I have with him before I go off to college, so I appreciate every moment I get with him and every race we travel to together. In all, these experiences have made our relationship stronger and I will always remember these years as I continue to ride in the future.