I got my first bike when I seven. It was a green Schwinn with silver baskets over the back tire and a bell on the front handlebar. I had to stand up when I rode it because I couldn’t yet reach the pedals but my parents assured me I would grow into it, and I guess to prove that I could ride it despite its size, we immediately ventured out on a 13-mile ride over shoulderless backcountry roads in the July heat to the next town over. Happy Birthday!

My next bike was purchased in middle school with my own hard-earned babysitting money. A blue Nishiki road bike with curled drop handlebars (so grown-up!). I loved that bike and rode it until someone cut through the lock as it sat perched outside my dorm the first week of college. It would take me years to replace it.

My husband, Tim, and I moved to Aspen the week we got married so for a wedding present, he got us matching Specialized mountain bikes. We were so cool. Our 21 year-old daughter now uses mine as a “townie” and I made her promise to love it like I do.

In my 30’s I bought a Broncos-orange Trek road bike and did my first – and only — triathlon with it. I got a speedometer and got “fitted” at a shop in Montana because that’s a thing people do when they are super serious road bike athletes like I am.

Then a few years ago a little thing called full suspension rocked my world and brought me back to the joy of mountain biking; I can still hear my own laughter echoing off the red sandstone walls around Moab as I bounced around the trails on my new wheels.

Looking back on it, I realize that some of my favorite most joy-filled times have been on a bike. I can think of dozens and dozens and dozens of these moments – from childhood rides to the ice cream store to the little thrill at catching air as I hop over the teensiest baby jump on a single-track dirt trail. There is just something about cruising on a bike with the wind in my face, and the right amount of speed (not too much, thank you) to feel like I’m flying, knowing all the hard climbs are behind me, that makes me feel such JOY.

So, let me introduce you to my new bike: SHE’S THE CUTEST THING EVER. Sassy like a little VW Bug. Classy like an old Aston Martin convertible. She’s a Scandinavian-designed “city bike” which just sounds adorable doesn’t it? And the best part: she’s electric, with a boost like the after-burner on an F16. I commute back and forth to work, to the park, to the gym. And you guys – I GO SO FAST. If you see a blur go by as you drive around Snowmass Village: it’s me! As I pedal up the hillsides, I wave to all the construction crews and the mamas pushing their strollers, like, “Don’t mind me while I just bike up this mountain WITHOUT BREAKING A SWEAT.” I’m in love.

Everywhere I go people want to test my e-bike out and not one person can ride it without shrieking like a seven-year-old girl when the boost kicks in. They all come back with huge smiles on their faces and I get the reward of knowing my bike left them all a little happier.

Here’s the thing about riding a bicycle. Never do you feel more in the moment than when you’re in the saddle. Riding a bike is equal parts attentiveness and unfettered joy. Sometimes we need to be reminded that we are capable of being present to joy and practicing it! The more you have the more you get.

The book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament encourages us all in our joy: “I commend the enjoyment of life because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil…” Basically, God loves you and wants you to be happy, the end.

Author Will Bowen, who started a movement called “A Complaint-Free World,” writes that our perspective is a delusion, “so choose the delusion that brings you the only thing that matters – choose to be happy.” And it’s a lot easier to choose happiness when you cultivate experiences that bring you joy, so that in your moments of hard work and challenge you remember how awesome life is.

With enough practice, happiness will be as easy as riding a bike.