Last Updated: April 2026
Quick Take: At 19 years old, one brutal college bike race made me swear I would never ride a bike again. Decades later, cycling became one of the best parts of my life. Sometimes the thing that humbles you early becomes the thing that saves you later.
As a kid, my bike was my freedom.
I loved the independence, the ability to explore the neighborhood, and the feeling of wind in my face as I pedaled hard toward some imaginary finish line. A bicycle was not exercise back then. It was transportation, adventure, escape, and imagination all rolled into one.
But like a lot of kids, my interests changed as I got older.
Basketball became my world.
I played through junior high, high school, and even earned a basketball scholarship to a small junior college. But after just one semester, I decided to give up the scholarship and the grind of competitive basketball. I still loved the game, but I did not feel the pull of chasing it as a career.
So I shifted to intramural leagues — still competitive, but with less pressure.
And then came something totally unexpected.
The Little 500.
Enter the Bike — Again
Toward the end of my freshman year, someone asked if I would ride on their team for a quirky campus event called the Little 500. It was a bike race held around the mile-long loop that circled the college.
Now, mind you, this was my first time riding a real road bike.
I was still carrying basketball confidence, which is a dangerous thing when you are about to learn that cycling uses your body in a very different way.
I thought, “How hard could one mile be?”
That was famous last words right there.
When it was my turn, I took off like I was sprinting down the court for a fast break. I went out too hard, too fast, and way too full of myself.
By the half-mile mark, I was gasping for air. My legs were on fire. My chest was heaving. The bike suddenly felt less like freedom and more like punishment with wheels.
I somehow finished my lap, but I was cooked.
There were four of us on the team, each riding a lap at a time until we finished the race. It was not 500 miles, thankfully, but it was still more than I was ready for.
We ended up winning — definitely not because of me.
Afterward, I was so wiped out that I collapsed, had to be helped up, and was driven home.
I turned to my girlfriend, who later became my wife, and said:
“No way I will ever ride a bike again.”
And at that moment, I meant it.
And Yet… Here We Are
Years later, after finishing my first 100-mile ride, my wife smiled and said:
“Remember when you said you’d never ride a bike again?”
I could not help but laugh.
Life is funny like that.
What started as childhood freedom turned into a one-lap disaster in college. And what felt like failure back then eventually became one of the best things that ever happened to me.
Now I am a 70-year-old cyclist, and riding has become part of who I am.
I have ridden tens of thousands of miles since that awful college lap. I have climbed mountains, crossed states, fought West Texas wind, ridden long solo miles, and learned more about myself on a bicycle than I ever expected.
If you are older and wondering whether cycling still makes sense, I wrote more about that here: Should a 70-Year-Old Ride a Bike?
What Changed?
The biggest change was not the bike.
It was me.
When I was young, I treated that college race like a sprint. I attacked it with ego instead of patience. I thought being in basketball shape meant I was automatically ready to ride hard.
It does not work that way.
Cycling rewards patience, rhythm, consistency, and humility. You cannot fake your way through long miles. The road will eventually tell the truth.
And that is one of the reasons I love it now.
At 70, I do not ride to prove I am young. I ride because it keeps me alive, alert, moving, and mentally sharper. I ride because it gives me purpose. I ride because I still love the feeling of moving down the road under my own power.
If you are trying to return to cycling later in life, this post may help too: Cycling for Seniors: Smart Tips for Riders Over 60
The Gear That Matters More Now
When I was young, I could get away with almost anything.
At 70, I am a lot more practical.
I still love the freedom of riding, but I also pay much closer attention to comfort and safety. I do not need flashy gear just to look like a cyclist. I need gear that helps me keep riding and helps me get home in one piece.
These are the kinds of items I think are worth considering if you are getting serious about riding again:
Cycling Gear I Actually Think Matters
I wrote more about the two safety tools I trust most here: Two Cycling Safety Tools I Trust at 70: Mirror + Radar
Never Say Never to the Bike
The funny thing is, I really did believe I was finished with cycling after that college race.
I had embarrassed myself. I had suffered. I had collapsed. I had decided bikes were not for me.
But the road waited.
That is one of the beautiful things about cycling. You can leave it for years, even decades, and still come back. You do not have to be fast. You do not have to look like a racer. You do not have to ride with a group. You just have to start turning the pedals again.
For me, cycling became more than exercise. It became a way to stay healthy, manage stress, challenge myself, and keep a sense of adventure alive long after the basketball years were gone.
If you are trying to rebuild fitness, this may also help: Is 30 Minutes of Cycling a Day Enough to Lose Weight?
You Never Know Where the Road Leads
The takeaway is simple.
Never say never — especially when it comes to bikes.
Sometimes a moment that feels like failure is really just the beginning of something bigger. Something better. Something that lasts a lifetime.
That one awful lap did not end my cycling story.
It just gave my wife a line she could remind me of for the rest of my life.
And honestly?
I am glad she remembered it.
Final Thought: If you used to ride years ago and think those days are over, I am here to tell you they may not be. Sometimes the road waits patiently for us to come back.