By Katie Coakley
I can’t remember when I learned to ride a bike. I have this image of wobbly handlebars adorned with sparkly streamers; the sound of my dad jogging, heavy-footed, behind me and a slightly lightheaded feeling when I realized that he was no longer holding on.
I tend to hold my breath when I get nervous.
However, though the feelings and images of when I first learned to ride my bike are hazy and fractured, it’s easy for me to remember when I found my love of cycling once again. It wasn’t that long ago and it involved more padding than I’ve worn in 15 years...