I decided to start a bike group a few months ago. I put up a post on FB, on a whim, one night. A few weeks later, I had 8 women riding in the woods. Eight! I wondered if it was a fluke?

On the next ride, there was rain. Six still showed. I felt this was getting rather serious. SIX in the RAIN?The following ride, there was 8… then another 8… then, last night, 14. Fourteen!

My God, I thought, WHAT is happening?

Women are arriving on their own, not knowing a soul, and bringing any bike at all. The mood is always high; I can’t describe it. Maybe a hint of WHY NOT? mixed with a WTH… rounded out with an I DARE YOU.

The minute they get on their bikes, everything else about them falls away. They drop their professional roles, family roles, community roles. Every woman morphs into just who she is, in dorky clothes and an unbecoming helmet. It’s suddenly a level playing field, a clean slate, a try anything. (A little bit of that WTH that I mentioned.)

Then, there’s the freedom only found on a bike. With everyone at the helm of their own ship – there is a fleet of Captains. (Everyone has a very personal relationship with their bike – and, if it’s been a while since they’ve ridden, their bike seat.) And, whether they ride on the path or off into a ditch because they aren’t paying attention – no matter – they take control of their ship and get it back on the road. And hoot while doing so. They are all 100% in their power.

(THIS is what I love the most about biking: It comes down to the shi!t you have inside YOU to pull it off.)

So. What am I trying to say?

The group is working because everyone is solo, independent and free – there’s such joy to that! No one has to come who doesn’t want to. Plus, there’s a community element. You’re in a pack. You’ve got a gang. You’re running together. There’s rooting and cheering and harassing. (Like, if you’re going to biff it every ride, you get the nickname Biff and that’s just how it is.)

It’s the best of both worlds – you by yourself, you at a party.

Last night, I found every woman talking to someone new they had met on the ride. I found every woman doing her own thing, at her own pace, at her own level. I saw the joy, the wind in their (helmet) hair, and, sometimes, the struggle. I also heard the laughing, the singing (yes, singing!) and the ribbing.

Afterward, we sat and shared a toast overlooking the bay. Someone suggested our next ride include a stop at a winery. Roughly 13 people seconded it. As the pretend ruler of this unruly group, I replied: SO IT IS.