New Year, new toy.
Today I am commenting on the radical act of going nowhere slowly.

I did not buy a new bicycle because I wanted to get in shape.

That would be dishonest as I have other addictive modes of exercise.

I bought a bicycle cruiser which is not a vehicle so much as a lifestyle declaration. It says: I am not racing you. I am not late. I am not measuring anything.

A cruiser does not shout. It glides.

It has a seat wide enough to accommodate opinions.

The handlebars rise politely, as if to say, let’s not hunch, sit up straight, look younger and erect.

Riding my new turquoise cutie feels less like exercise and more like reclaiming dignity.

My feet move. My heart beats. But no one is yelling cadence or tracking metrics or congratulating me for closing my rings. I am simply moving through air like a person who has already proven enough.

There is something profoundly menopausal about it.

This bike is not interested in optimization. It does not care about wattage or carbon fiber. It is here for short range errands, clubhouse jaunts, tennis dates and to air out thoughts that need space.

I ride past people power-walking with purpose and feel nothing but compassion. They are striving. I am coasting. There is a difference.

The pace is fast enough to feel the breeze and to keep in time with the music emanating from my vintage radio headset.

On this bicycle I am not becoming a better version of myself.

I am returning to the version who knew that joy did not require suffering, and movement did not need a leaderboard.

This is not a midlife crisis bike.

This is a midlife clarity bike.

And for a woman who is all about accessories, the basket reeks of fabulosity.

Even though I feel fab on my new stylin’ cruiser, remember it is sometimes better to look good than feel good.