So. 

When I was 18, I started riding bikes in a serious way.  At college, I bought my first (and only) true racing bike.   

Italian-made.   

It's a called a Colnago. 

As you can see in the photo, I almost didn't buy it because...  

IT.  WAS. PINK.

Girly color.  No way, no how.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?   

I got on it and it changed my mind in an instant.  Fit me great, handled even better, and I bought it with summer job money.  I rode thousands upon thousands of miles on that bike.  Raced a couple races.  Figured out I liked riding more than racing.  In those days, 30 miles barely got my heart rate up, and 60-70 miles was an average ride... several times per week.  

I am on a strongly-felt mission to simplify my life.  As I am entering the mid-life, empty nesting phase of my life, I was considering the possibility of moving and downsizing.  So I figured one way to simplify was to operate as if I was about to move.  And this involves walking around the house and taking inventory.     

I don't ride my bike and it doesn't fit me the same way it did when I was 20 and before 3 children.  It deserves a better life than collecting dust.  You know?  So came the day.  

Put it up for sale.  Stuff is just stuff, right?

Ah, but the catch is that some stuff comes with deeply, deeply held symbolism and memories, as my bicycle did.

I had it before I was married.  I had it before I had my boys.  I used it to get away from the city (Fort Collins and Laramie at the time).  I used it to build my body.  I used it to build my confidence.  I went 59 (count 'em) miles an hour on that bike.  Downhill on Casper Mountain in Wyoming.  Yeah, I know.  Verifiably nuts.   

I used to put clothes pins and playing cards on the spokes to make it sound like it had a motor.  No joke.  If you've met me, you can see that, right?  The other racing buffs used to think I was crazy when I did that.  I didn't care.  I loved it.    

I moved from Wyoming to Alaska and a lot of things went into storage.

Four years later, I came back from Alaska with very little stuff (backpack and a box), but with all of the important things in my life - me and my children.

My friend in Wyoming, Celeste, had been storing my bike for me.  I had forgotten about that.  My ex-husband had sold the wheels off of my bike before we left for Alaska (argghhh), so she was gonna bring the frame down to me.  She shows up to my house and rolls my bike to the front door.

WHAT?!  She had bought a set of wheels for it.  Said, "No bike should be without wheels.  It simply can't be tolerated."  At a time where I had no money, no job, and had just escaped from a horrible situation, her sheer act of loving kindness far out-weighed the fact that I had 3 young boys and very little time, energy and inclination to go on long rides.

Fast forward to July 2012:  I posted it on Craigslist.  It was time. 

Within an hour, I had two interested queries.  Within two hours, I had a commitment for a guy to come down that night from Fort Collins to pick the bike up for his girlfriend's birthday.  (did I mention it was PINK?)

As I grieved the news (it happened so fast,) I thought of one person who could truly understand how painful it can be to sell a bike.  I know, I know, it's just a bike.  But at the same time, it is an ending.  A door closing. 

So I called Celeste in Wyoming.  We haven't talked for almost 2 years.  As I relayed the story of simplifying my life and selling my bike as a part of that process, she just listened.  At the end of my teary reason for the call - "I just wanted to call someone who'd understand the weird pain of selling a bicycle," she interrupts me- "I WANT THAT BIKE."

What?

"I WANT THAT BIKE.  I WILL MEET OR BEAT YOUR LAST OFFER."

What?

She went on to tell me a touching story about 2 cycling friends who were about our age who have both passed away in unrelated accidents 10 years apart.  She'd given her roadbike that one of them had made for her to the other one that died last year.  Both men are gone now.  The upshot is that she hadn't had a roadbike for the last year.  And she proceeded to tell me how my call to her was God's way of giving her the gift of a cherished bicycle out of the blue.

Wow. 

And so my pain is lessened and I am so grateful.  The circumstances led to the refreshing of an old friendship and I spent the next weekend with Celeste and her beautiful family.  I'm finishing so many chapters of my life right now and God is making it easier on me with these kinds of miracles.   

As you look at the last five months of this year, take a moment to take an inventory of the things that you are keeping just because - with no solid reason, no solid function, no solid sentiment.  Just because of old memories that no longer serve.   

Let's talk next week about what to do about it...  

Sold my pink wheels last week.  And bittersweet can be a good thing.  - Ana-Christina