“I don’t know about this,” I said to my husband as we stood in the aisle of Target looking up at the perfect, sky blue beach cruiser hanging above us on the rack. With a curved body and shiny silver handlebars, she was a beauty. I pictured myself riding her down our quiet, suburban street in the springtime, wearing a skirt, a fresh baguette artfully peeking out of the basket that I would obviously add on as an accessory.

“Try it out,” said Luke, easily lifting the bike down and steadying it for me. Reluctantly, I straddled the bike and with the front wheel pointing toward the grocery section, prayed I would not go careening into the display of Mission tortillas and taco sauces that were visible on the horizon.

I was always a bit shaky when it came to riding a bike. I had learned as a kid, but by the time Luke and I met in graduate school, it had been years since I’d been on one. Back then, Luke rode his bike everywhere around our bucolic university town, his helmet a permanent fixture next to his notebook in our writing classes. We were both in our 20’s and had just started dating when he decided to re-teach me how to ride. One afternoon, we headed to a garage sale out in Appalachia and purchased a used boys mountain bike. Standing together in the parking lot of a local restaurant, Luke ran alongside me, encouraging me to keep steady and pedal until finally, he let go and I was riding.

Ronnie Koenig and her husband during a bike ride.

From that day on we rode our bikes everywhere together — to classes, the health food store and up to Stroud’s Run where we took different trails, not knowing where they would lead to as our relationship began to blossom and grow.

Now, ten years of marriage, two kids, a mortgage and twenty years together as a couple later, my husband watched as I carefully navigated my way past the housewares section, picking up speed as I passed ladies lingerie and hung a U-turn back to the toy department.

“I’ll take it!” I exclaimed, exhilarated with the notion that yes, I could still ride a bike, and that maybe this would be fun.

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Initially I thought I needed a bike so I could keep up with my seven-year-old twins who were now riding. What I didn’t expect was that getting back on the bike would actually help reinvigorate my long-term marriage.

After a few weeks of biking to and from school for pick-up, I was getting more comfortable on my new ride, Joanie (as in, loves Chachi). I loved the feeling of the wind rushing over me and other moms marveled at my ability to make it up the step hill near the elementary school (all those squats were actually paying off!). Then one Friday afternoon, Luke and I decided to steal away for a day-date. The plan was to go to lunch in town. We were about to get into the car when I had a brainwave.

“Let’s ride our bikes!”

Luke considered my idea and moments later we were strapping on our helmets. Luke slung his heavy wire lock across his body and suddenly the sight of him like that brought me back in time to those early days when we were just getting to know each other. Hopping on and pedaling, I followed his lead down the side streets and out onto a busy thoroughfare, heading toward the restaurant. I had to admit, it felt dangerous and exhilarating, riding alongside cars and trucks on a busy street, following my husband as he confidently led the way. Okay, so we weren’t jumping out of an airplane or stalking wild animals on a safari, but it was still exciting enough to get my juices flowing!