The Bike Race

Hazy, hot, and humid! That pretty much describes my childhood summers spent in the big city. On especially opressive days, my siblings and I would ponder why our metropolis had knowingly been built on top of a swamp. As wide-eyed children, we were resigned to accept our sweaty fates.

Besides the heat and humidity, my childhood summers offered another constant--the city playgrounds. By the end of the summer, my siblings and I were playground connoisseurs. We enjoyed several of the rec centers within walking distance and frequented others within biking distance. The city playgrounds served as an oasis for the urban youth by offering child-oriented, low-key activities such as cards, darts, pick-up basketball games, and crafts.

For the rec-sponsored swimming lessons, my brother and I would board a metro bus before dawn. With permission note, snack, and bus tokens in hand, we ventured deep into the city. The early summer lessons began around six-forty-five am and the water was usually freezing. I think we both may have excelled at swimming just to stay warm.

One summer I was especially excited about a bicycle race in the heart of the city. Bill, the rec counselor, had offered to take a group of us and our bikes down to the race. Since my beloved banana-seat, mustang bike had recently been stolen from the front lawn, I improvised and asked to borrow my neighbor's rusty Raleigh with the awkward, high handle bars. My friend was four years older, and at the age of twelve, thought she was too cool for the race. However, she enthusiastically gave me her blessings.

Even though the day of the race was unbearably hot, the kids from all over the city were energetic and eager to compete. The girls were assembled to race first. My heart pounded as I waited for the starter gun to sound. I pedaled as fast as I could on the bike that had seen better days. Two-thirds of the way around the course my chain suddenly broke. With the jarring stop, I realized that I had been leading the pack and I was devastated.

After the other racers passed, Bill came over and made sure that I was not injured. He then took the broken bike and my broken spirit and leaned us against a shade tree. He told me not to worry, to stay there, and he would see what he could do. I saw Bill speak with the judges and watched as he congratulated the other racers.

Next thing I knew, Bill was wheeling over a shiny, five-speed Schwinn with the aerodynamic handle bars that curved downward. Bill handed me the bike and told me to line up with the boys. I don't know whether I was happier over the wonderful bike or that I was being given another chance to race, but my elation was not shared. Some of the boys made it clear that I was not welcome. My heart pounded as I waited for the sound of the starter gun and I tried to ignore the boys' ugly stares and remarks.

As I pedaled the magnificient Schwinn with all my might, I felt weightless and could sense that I was really flying. The race was so exhilirating! I saw Bill jumping up and down as I crossed the finish line. When I slowed down I realized that I had won the race.

After much discussion, the judges decided that the three boys who finished after me would receive the trophies. It was surreal, like the theater of the absurd, as I watched the boys who came in after me receive their trophies. Yet, I was still elated from the race. On the way home, Bill reminded us that I had won fair and square.

That summer, Bill entered the rec kids in more athletic events. By fall, I had a scrapbook full of ribbons, several trophies on my dresser, and memories to last a lifetime. I later went on to co-captain my basketball team and I competed in a mid-Atlantic level track meet.

As an adult, I look back appreciatively to Bill for his astute judgement and caring. I also recognize that Bill was a visionary for encoraging my particpation in sports and for having the courage to enter me in a boys'race.

Today, when the occasional instance of discrimination brushes up against my life, I remember my exhilirating bike race. Trophy or no trophy, I stay the course, try to do my best, and finish the race.

-- Laura Sauer