"Saddle Up"

Sixty-five miles.

That's what the computer on my bicycle read after I got back home the other day. Actually it was 65.11 miles, the distance from my apartment in Santa Barbara to Ventura and back, but who's counting?

I am.

I used to be a person who rode a bicycle.

Now, I am a cyclist. Not the Tour-de-France kind of cyclist, but a cyclist just the same. The transition from rider to cyclist — and there is a difference — came gradually. I really didn't even notice it until I realized that I was riding along Highway 101 and I wasn't even afraid. A little nervous, though, but not afraid. (Highway 101 in California is like I-95 back East, FYI.)

First it was toe clips, then it was shoes, then before long I was all geared up and ready for the road: reflective jacket, Dri-fit clothing, gloves, goggles, whistle, tool kit, Camelbak hydration system, a change of clothes, iPhone, spare cell phone, iPod, camera, sunglasses, change of clothes, tooth brush, tooth paste, helmet. You never know.

Saddle up!

Cycling out here, in the West is a different ballgame than it was for me back East. I lived and worked in New York City during the days surrounding 9/11, and I commuted to my job at the Daily News in Manhattan from my apartment in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. For several days immediately following that terrible day, with many of the city's streets barricaded and some public transportation disrupted, riding my hybrid Trek was the only way to go.

Seven miles.

Across the Brooklyn Bridge, up Park Avenue toward 34th Street and over toward the Hudson. Then, after my shift was over, back. Seven miles. Before 9/11, I'd head over to the West Side, through the World Trade Center district toward the Hudson, then up toward work on 33rd. Sometimes on my weekends, I'd ride from Brooklyn to New Jersey. Go figure. (For the naysayers and know-it-alls who might want to dispute the route: Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, across to the Hudson side of the island, up to the George Washington Bridge, across the Hudson and into New Jersey.)

Not long after I arrived in California, I pedaled from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles. Took me 10 hours, but I felt great after I got there. I took Amtrak back, though.

Last weekend I woke up, packed my gear and hit the road. I was on a fixed-gear Raleigh road bike, a Rush Hour. And my gear said, "This guy is serious," I had no problem riding. And it was a good ride, too. The wind, the beach, even the traffic.

I even got to see a sunset. Beautiful. I just didn't want to be on the 101 at night.

When I got back home, it was dark. I couldn't help but chuckle and think about how back when I was growing up, I often had to be home before the streetlights came on. Some of the other kids could stay out, but I had to pedal home, keeping an eye on my watch. And the sun.

Now, that I don't have to be "in" so early, I'm taking advantage. Happy trails!

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