The China Bike

There is a certain kind of decision that makes complete sense in the moment and reveals itself as deeply misguided almost immediately. Buying the China Bike was that kind of decision.

It was 2012 or so. I had been married eight years, working a desk job, drinking good beers with some regularity, and somewhere in all of that I had gotten to 235 pounds on a 6-foot frame. I had also just quit smoking, which meant I was itchy in the specific way that only former smokers understand: restless, needing something to do with my hands and my energy and my time.

My son was seven or eight. He loved riding. Watching him zoom around on his bike I could see that riding around the farm wasn't going to be enough for him much longer. He needed someone to ride with. He needed his dad.

So I did what any reasonable person does in that situation. I went to Amazon and bought the cheapest, heaviest, ugliest red beach cruiser I could find. I bought my wife a bike too, hers had gears and stuff. Mine was essentially a red steel anchor with wheels.

The China Bike in Practice

I don't know what I was thinking. My thought process, such as it was, went something like: I'll hop on, cruise around with the kids, get some fresh air, no big deal.

The reality was something else entirely.

The gear ratio was horrendous, wrong for anything except slowly pedaling along a flat boardwalk, which is not what I was doing. It weighed approximately 500 pounds. I am exaggerating, but not by much. The coaster brake had a habit of sticking just enough that you'd be riding along wondering why it felt like you were pedaling through concrete, and the answer was that you were dragging a partially engaged brake the entire time.

My son would zoom ahead of me on his bike and I would struggle to keep up. My son. Who was seven.

I have never felt so weak in my life.

The 5K

Someone talked me into a 5K that Labor Day. I don't know how they managed it because I hate running. I knew I hated running then, I just wasn't willing to admit it yet. I have no such reservations now. I hate running.

But I took the race as a deadline. I needed something to aim at, and a Labor Day 5K was better than nothing. So I ran. It was awful in the specific way that only running is awful: relentless, joyless, every step a negotiation with your own body.

My wife rode her bike alongside me during training runs. She kept pace with me, gave me encouraging words, and on at least one memorable occasion, a pinch on the butt to get me moving faster. That helped.

The photo from the finish line tells the whole story. Three guys, summer heat, a dog wandering through the frame. I am the one on the right, and the expression on my face is not the expression of a man who has discovered a new passion. It is the expression of a man who is deeply relieved that something is over.

The Choice

After the 5K the answer was obvious.

Running was not the way. The China Bike was not the way. But riding, real riding on a real bike, that might still be the way. I had been fast once. I had ridden thirty miles each way across Indiana to see a girl. I had led a leg of the Little 500 by nearly a full lap.

That guy was still in there somewhere. He just needed a real bike.

I went on eBay and started looking. What I found was a used Cannondale crit frame in red. The moment I saw it I knew.

The China Bike went away. The Cannondale arrived. And everything changed.

Kai -- if you're reading this -- that Cannondale is still mine. 😉