Okay, so I am not by any means a speed demon, but I can’t help but feel like one as I zip through the streets on my newest tri toy: an all carbon fiber Trek Madone road bike.

I’m not quite sure where this bike falls in terms of low-end/high-end, but it was a major improvement from the previous bike. My old bike was a Trek Pilot, and had lasted me six years. The bike in itself is a perfectly fine bike for a beginner triathlete. I could have gotten away with using it for my first season. But I’m making changes in my life and needed a new start, so what better way than to buy new gear?! (I thank my lucky stars that my husband agreed with my logic. It got him a new mountain bike after all.)

I was eager to take my bike out for its first real bike ride. That only lasted for a brief moment before utter fear and terror started coursing through my body. Why you ask? Well, I have what some might call a “natural talent” for crashing every bike I have ever owned. At age five, my desire to be just like my brother  was so strong that I jumped off a two foot bike ramp (just like him), and crashed (just like him). At age ten, I managed to thread my entire leg through the spokes of the front tire of my bike (the whole neighborhood stood around to watch the tire be removed with bolt cutters). At age sixteen, I crashed into a parked car that was in a nearly empty parking lot. (Remember that scene in Titanic where Rose drags her hand down the window of a steamy car? If you replace the steamy car for a dirty one, and imagine the passenger side door instead of a window, I recreated that hand print exactly.) At age nineteen (oh yes, there’s more), I took my first road bike out for the first time, hit a curb, and crashed as I was on my way to the bike shop. Total bike ride duration: not even 5 minutes.

You would think that I have learned my lesson, but here I am, immersing myself into a sport that requires biking. I believe this is the definition of being insane.

I decided that a relatively easy, flat trail would be best for my “first” bike ride. Therefore, we (me, my husband, and a friend) headed down the Burke-Gilman Trail; a lovely paved trail that winds its way around Seattle, giving a great view of Lake Washington along the way. The sun was out, and it was a relatively decent day for being in Seattle in autumn. I started out hesitant and scared, but quickly began picking up speed as I became comfortable with the feel of a new bike.

The lightness of the carbon frame made the ride effortless for my legs, freeing my mind so that I could concentrate on not crashing enjoy the beautiful scenery. It was a thrilling bike ride; one that redeemed all the past ones that ended in a bloody mess. And then the weather turned on us. It began to rain (as it does in Seattle), but I was not about to let that ruin my first amazing bike ride (without getting hurt) in the last decade. I was determined to finish this bike ride strong, and free of a gravel-lodged-in-the-skin catastrophe. By the end of the bike ride, I was absolutely sure of one thing: my new bike was magical.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the bike. Maybe in the last six years I have actually learned how to ride a bike? Or maybe my training over the last few months has improved my balance, making it impossible for me to crash? Or maybe a fairy came in the night and… (what? Face it, a fairy is just as likely to have happened as all the other options. In fact, it is probably the most likely.) In any case, I have a new found love of biking. Just don’t expect me to jump any ramps, or bike through parking lots any time soon.