There were a couple of memories that immediately came to my head when I thought about my childhood, like constantly drawing with crayons, playing baseball on an all-boy team (I was the only girl) and going to Orioles games with my dad, BUT one event that impacted my life for several years to come was a particular bike ride when I was seven...
It all started with my sister and I heading up a big hill on our bikes. I asked my nine-year-old sister if we were allowed to go up this hill -- a hill that I might mention was, up to this point, off limits. She said, "Yeah. Mommy said we could." So, I pushed to the top of the hill and was looking forward to the fast and easy ride down.
About halfway down the hill, my handlebars started to wobble and I was going too fast to control my bike. I hit a gravel pit at the bottom of the hill, flew over the handle bars, landed on my face, lost two teeth (one was a front tooth) and got a nasty booboo on my arm. Not good. I was carried home by a complete stanger and handed over to my mom, who was nine months pregnant!
For the next several years, my two front teeth grew in as buck-toothed as one could get. So, I was left a red-headed, freckled, buck-toothed little girl. I got braces later and my teeth are fine now, but that is a memory that my whole family laughs at today. My sister still feels a little guilty about lying and telling me that were allowed to go down the big hill.
Even to this day, I think about that wobbly trip down the hill! I did two triathlons in the last year and I have to admit, there were some hills that brought me back to that infamous hill!
I guess the moral of the story is: never trust your big sister. And if you do, never let her live it down! Right, Jenny!