I admit it. I’m fickle. I get caught up in the latest exercise fads, buy the equipment, and then once the novelty fades, the new toys gather dust. 

Recently, I tried to part ways with a stationary bike. Pedal, as I affectionately named her years ago, had been sitting in an upstairs bedroom for over a year, untouched. Our relationship had started with such passion, but it quickly fizzled. In an attempt to rekindle the spark, I bought a DVD featuring the gorgeous Irish countryside, hoping it would make me forget I was still stuck inside, pedaling away on a stationary bike.

Alas, the DVD’s motivating factor didn’t last long. Apathy set in stronger than ever. To soothe my spirit, I turned to YouTube and played Julio Iglesias’ “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before.”  I listened to the words, focusing on one stanza in particular.

“The winds of change are always blowing,

And every time I try to stay,

The winds of change continue blowing,

And they just carry me away.”

The song inspired me. It was time for a clean break. 

My husband and I loaded the heavy bike into our vehicle and drove to our local Goodwill, only to be told they couldn’t take it. For a moment, I felt a pang of sympathy for Pedal—like the last one picked for a playground baseball team—but that quickly passed. I was thrilled to have space back in the guest bedroom. Still, I wasn’t heartless. I didn’t want to just dump Pedal and run.

“Free,” I taped a sign to her back and placed her prominently near the driveway. There she sat. And sat. And sat.

Determined to find her a home, I started harassing people, starting with the carpet cleaner. 

“Would you like a stationary bike? It’s practically new.”

“No,” he said, “I already have one that we never use.”

I called friends, but like gardeners drowning in zucchini in August, no one wanted a stationary bike. 

Meanwhile, I unearthed more forgotten fitness gear: a weighted vest for osteopenia that I wore twice, hand weights I hadn’t touched in years and several old VHS aerobic workout tapes. I looked at the dusty covers featuring fitness icons like Jane Fonda and Denise Austin and remembered the fantasies I had, thinking that if I followed the routines, I’d look just like them. I wanted to break into song: “To all the tapes I once caressed, and may I say I’ve worked out with the best…”

For now, poor Pedal still sat by the driveway, waiting for a new home. Maybe I should start a dating service for exercise equipment. The first ad could read: “Single stationary bike looking for love. Preference given to those with soft cheeks.”

Then, one fateful day, my husband and I spoke with the director of a local respite center. 

“Could you use an exercise bike?”

“Hmmm.”

We held our breath.

“Yes, I think we have just the spot.”

Hallelujah! We wasted no time. We hauled Pedal over and placed her in a prime spot in the large gym.

I walked away, smiling and singing after giving her a pat on the seat. 

Pedal, you’ve traveled in and out my door. You live within my heart, and you’ll always be a part of all the fads I’ve loved before.