My story isn't anywhere near as cool as dropping a wine bottle on my toe.

My husband got me into the sport. Such a common story. We had just started dating - I was a poor grad student at the time. He mountain biked and road biked with his sister and her husband.

We first tried mountain biking. They loaned me a bike that would occassionally just freeze up in the middle of pedal stroke. They took me on a very technical single track. I hated every moment, and couldn't wait to get off of the bike. I spent most of that ride off the bike, walking around obstacles.

Then we tried road biking. I had my mother's 70's Schwinn LeTour, and they took me out for an 8 mile loop. I did very well, and actually enjoyed myself. They were amazed that I made it up one little hill - when my husband took up riding he was so out of shape he got up that hill, threw his bike down and collapsed on the side of the road. Heck! I grew up in hilly Bucks County, PA and used to ride my bike several miles to swim team practice every summer. I was also in reasonably good shape.

I was too poor to buy a bike, so I used the LeTour for a while, and for some reason bought a mountain bike instead of a road bike so I was forced to ride the mountain bike on the road for over a year until I could afford a road bike.