Like Mother Like Daughter

Like mother like daughter. Words I never thought would be uttered from my mouth. Now, as I sit here, writing a website and blogging, I realize it is more true than I could ever imagine. My mother is a writer on dance and food. She has written for the Philadelphia Inquirer for years, among other publications. She has now entered the world of blogging (primeglib). My mother knows dance and food like nobodies business. She'll kick your butt in Scrabble too. The only difference is she gets paid for her writing. I just get the glory.

What I never realized until now is how similar dance and cycling are. My mother never really "got" the bike thing. While I know she is proud of my accomplishments, sports are not a part of her vernacular. Dance is. She understands the movement, grace and style that must accompany good dance. One has to be limber, strong and graceful to execute certain moves. It is equally important to be in tune with your body, knowing where each part connects and how it connects with the world outside (the audience). When she watches dance as a critic, the ability to interpret choreography with precise movements that convey emotion and a story, are part of what she is looking for.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought about cycling. Like dance, a cyclist has to be in tune with their body, feeling each movement individually, yet bringing it all together in one precise motion. As you glide across the road or dirt, there is a feeling of weightlessness as you float effortlessly over the terrain. The zizz of your gears spinning buzzes like a sweet hum in your ears. You pedal along with ease, much like a dancer leaping through the air as if she has wings to make her fly. You feel that moment where you are truly free and one with your bike.

I have experienced the blood, sweat and tears that I have given to this sport. Which in some way is part of the joy. I have had the bloody wounds, scabs and bruises (both in body and spirit) to show my commitment and desire. Like a dancer with bloody, calloused feet and exhausted muscles, who keeps dancing until she gets it right; there is something that lives inside of us that pushes us to do what we do.

Another similarity I noticed is that you have to be able to read your terrain, much like a dancer interprets choreography. You have to know how each piece connects, what lies ahead, and how you will adjust or approach the varying and unpredictable roads or trails ahead. In the peloton, there is a certain choreography and tempo that falls into place. When you are jamming down your favorite trail you can feel your wheels slicing the dirt moving with the path of nature. It is a beautiful thing to experience for yourself.

When bike riding takes you to these heights, I believe it is much like the pleasure and satisfaction a dancer must feel when taking the final bow. You know you nailed it and you have the momentary realization of why you put yourself through the rigors. To have that feeling of grace and beauty, again and again. And to keep dancing on those pedals...

Like mother like daughter. Maybe it's not such a bad thing.