The Ride that Started Everything
Three weeks into our new life in Jericó, Antioquia, Colombia, I found myself staring at my bicycle with a mixture of excitement and terror. The Independence Day Ride was happening on July 20, 2022, and despite being a novice cyclist with shaky Spanish skills and zero intel about what lay ahead, I decided, after much encouragement from our new Colombian friends, to join the local cycling group on the annual ride. Little did I know this single decision would transform my entire Colombian experience.
The Leap of Faith
After decades of knee pain from a childhood bike accident, I’d only begun cycling a year earlier following a joint replacement. As a brand new rider, I had every reason to stay home: I didn’t know the route length or elevation gains (I received various answers and many shrugs when I asked about these details), my Spanish was intermediate at best, and my confidence on two wheels was pretty darn low. But something about the infectious enthusiasm of the local cyclists convinced me
to show up that morning.
More Than Just a Ride
What surprised me and what I later came to expect about Colombian rides was that it started at 6AM, involved coffee, hot chocolate and food – in this case, a full Colombian breakfast of eggs and arepa (a flat corn based bread) with a thick slice of cheese – and was filled with a tremendous amount of enthusiasm and positivity.
I remember feeling pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the welcome from the other riders. The Independence Day ride stretched 38 miles with 2,350 feet of climbing—which was, by far the longest ride I’d completed to date, and plenty challenging to me at that time. As I pedaled through Antioquia’s rolling hills and patchwork coffee farms, the lush landscapes and vibrant greenery seemed to lift my spirits. Even when my legs tired, the infectious enthusiasm of the local riders and the beauty all around carried me forward. I found I could just keep pedaling – slowly but steadily – to the finish line.
At the end of the ride, a full Colombian celebration awaited: a town park filled with hundreds of riders from Jericó and surrounding regions, celebratory drinks and laughter, a raffle, and a traditional (and huge) Colombian lunch. By the time we mounted our bikes for the return journey (thankfully mostly downhill), I felt proud, pleased, and surprisingly connected to these riders who had, seemingly without effort, opened their hearts to us.
An Ocean of Enthusiasm
This ride introduced me to Jericó’s cycling culture – what I can only describe as being dropped into an ocean of overwhelming positivity and fervor for regional as well as national pride, bicycling and friendship. I realized that the reason I couldn’t get the simple facts about the ride beforehand, is because for Colombians, numbers matter far less than camaraderie, excitement, and love of their country and cycling.
And what struck me most was that even against the backdrop of a complicated national history, they have a boundless capacity for warmth, friendliness and welcoming newcomers. I realized this was never just about a bike ride – it was about community, culture, and connection.
The Year That Followed
From that day on, I spent the year continuing to challenge myself, exploring Antioquia on two wheels. My Spanish improved, my legs grew stronger, and my ties to the town of Jericó and its cycling community deepened. The mountains became my classroom, my gym, and my refuge. What began as a leap into the unknown became the foundation of an extraordinary year of growth and belonging.
The Power of Saying Yes
Looking back, that Independence Day ride taught me the value of saying yes, even when I didn’t know what was ahead. By trusting in the kindness of strangers and leaning into uncertainty, I didn’t just complete a bike ride – I discovered an alternative option in life.
Now, whenever I’m in unfamiliar surroundings and feel shy or uncertain, I remind myself to “go Colombian” and warmly greet the people around me. I’ve learned to relax, show up, keep pedaling, treat everyone like a friend, and savor the journey—because I never know when beauty, kindness, or unexpected connection will appear.
Thanks for reading and, by all means, pedal on!
Lenore
