Once upon a time, I was a triathlete.

Okay, so maybe I dabbled in triathlon, but I did alright and I had fun. I won my first Try-a-Tri almost seven years ago to this day. My prize was a big bag of chocolate from the local chocolate factory. What wasn't there to love about this great sport?!

Well, if you'd asked me recently why I wasn't still at it, I'd tell you that I never really loved the biking part. I'd tell you that I haven't been on my bike in almost three years because I just didn't love biking. I am a swimmer and a runner. Not a biker. This is what I'd tell you.

I wouldn't tell you that I haven't been on my bike in the last three years because I don't have the time to ride. I don't have hours to spend in the Gatineau hills and out on the parkways. This is the real truth. And there is nothing wrong with this truth.

It just wasn't really a truth to me, until I sold my bike this week.

It started with an achy knot in my stomach when a potential buyer wanted to come by to take it for a test ride. And then I almost cried on the way home from dropping it off at the new owner's house (a young girl fresh out of college looking to start triathlon - pretty much me nine years ago when I bought my pretty bike).

Yes, I almost cried. My husband teased me when I told him of my parting grief - he saw my bike go unused for a year at our last apartment, and then make the move with us almost two years ago to our new house, where it hung in the shed, dusty and flat tired.

Okay, so I was pregnant for a few months during that time of neglect. But that bike. That bike and it's snappy aqua colour - it represented so much of those days when time was all my own. When I could hop on on a whim and take off for hours at a time. Remember that time? When there were enough hours in a day. And when those hours were all your own. When leaving the house on that whim meant putting on your shoes. Not those of another, and making sure you have the sippycupcleandiaperswipestoysunscreensunhatchangeofclothesandasnack - don't forget the snack! For goodness sake, don't forget the snack.

This is the part where I tell you honestly, and in all seriousness, that it's okay. That I am okay with not having enough hours in a day. And I am okay with not having those hours all to myself. My bike and I have parted ways. And that's okay. Really.


I know I will get back to triathlon one day. I know I will. But today I've got a different kinda multi-sport going on. And it's way cooler.