It’s Saturday morning, and I’m doing something I rarely do during the day: I’m watching TV. I’m watching the Giro d’Italia bike race.

Many years ago, pre-children, I loved cycling. I bought a compact Cannondale road bike shortly after my husband and I married 25 years ago, and I rode it all over the mid-Atlantic region of the United States. We lived in Maryland at the time, and had endless access to low-traffic, rolling-hill roads among beautiful bucolic scenery.

I guess I rode for about ten years, and I feel like I maybe even clocked 10,000 miles, though I could be making that up. Then kids happened, and priorities shifted, and biking fell away. I don’t remember when I sold my bike, probably in Minnesota because I don’t remember bringing one to Virginia. And so, for the past 15 years, I’ve been bikeless, and I didn’t really miss it.

Something happened in the past year, though, where I started itching for it again. Maybe it was getting back into the Tour de France last year. After the men’s Tour, we watched the women’s Tour. Then the Vuelta a España. Cycling season ended for the winter, and when the spring classics began, we began watching again: Milan-San Remo, Tour of Flanders, Paris-Roubaix, Liège-Bastogne-Liège.

A bigger contributor is that my husband bought a road bike again last year. At first, watching him ride out didn’t affect me. The hills where we live are steep, not rolling, and our roads are tight and mountain-winding, not wide or super cyclist friendly. I was a big No thank you on cycling, and I didn’t think I wanted to ride.

And then I did. We bought a convertible Mazda last May, and the feel of the wind when we drive these mountain roads with the top down reminds me of what it feels like to ride a bike. I love moving quickly through the air, with the wind on my face and my arms. I love the freedom of it. I miss that, and I was getting bored with swimming, walking, and running for physical activity.

At the end of March, my husband and I went to DC to see a jazz guitarist play and to see a Dorothea Lange exhibit. While we were there, I bought a used road bike. A Cannondale, the bike brand of my heart. On our walk around Georgetown, I bought a helmet.

Slowly, gently, I’m riding a bike again. My first couple of rides, I just did laps in the neighborhood; the tires were old and I didn’t have a tire change kit or any way to carry one with me, so I didn’t want to go far from home. Then I extended my laps to a circuit outside of the neighborhood. It feels so good to go fast through the air.

Gradually, I’m updating my bike. My husband changed out the cables and brake pads, I changed out the tires and the tubes. My bike shifts beautifully now, and the chain no longer rubs. I bought cycling shorts and a jersey, so I can ride in comfort and carry my phone and a pump in my jersey. I bought a tire change kit and a little saddle bag to store it in. I bought some cycling shoes. Today, while we watched the Giro, my husband put my new Speedplay pedals on.

I’m riding again.