The Magic of Olympic Track Cycling
I was twenty when I learned to ride a bike. I’d owned one when I was six—a little yellow number with training wheels, a gift from a boyfriend of my mother’s. Unfortunately, someone stole it, and, for whatever reason, I never got another. For fourteen years, I walked. It wasn’t until 2001, when I was a junior in college and at loose ends for the summer, that I decided to join the rest of humanity behind the handlebars.