There's something sexy about working hard. Riding for miles and miles, sweating vast rivers of sweat, getting dirty, blowing rainwater off your lips as you roll effortlessly down the street in a torrential downpour that most people would run away from. There's something glamorous about getting hurt, and wearing scars like medals. I've always admired these things in bike messengers, and now that I am one, I can appreciate them even more in myself.

My mother didn't raise no wuss. She would always scold me not to cry when I got hurt, saying "Be tough, don't be a wuss, it doesn't hurt that bad." She would always encourage me to lift heavy things and to work out with her at the gym and to race her to the end of the street. Things that, unfortunately, most American girls are not encouraged to do. My mom wanted me to be strong and independent like her. She was a single mother, and her mantra was, "You don't need men to help you do anything. You can do it yourself. We can do anything a man can do, and we can do it better." And for a long time, despite what she was trying to instill in me, I was a wuss. I cried and whined whenever I was sick or hurt, and I laid in bed all day, shunning physical exercise. I'm not sure when it was that my skin thickened and I became strong and brave. But that's what I am now, and I feel so much better about myself.

My mom is so proud of me now. She tells all her friends that I ride around my bike in the city all day - as tough as she is, she could never do it. We both look at my muscular legs now and beam with pride. In high school, I was the proverbial 90-pound weakling, with legs like Olive Oyl. A few months ago, until I got used to it, I used to constantly squeeze my thighs and ass, and flex my calves, in disbelief that I actually had muscle.

As far as injuries go, I have yet to take a major spill, and I hope that when I do (because I know I will), that the damage to me and my bike is minimal.

I look at other bike messengers, and I'm still very attracted to the way they look. But the mystery, the intangibility of the lifestyle is gone, replaced with satisfaction and pride for all my accomplishments. Of course, there are a lot of problems that go along with being a bike messenger, especially here in Boston. Now would be an appropriate time to talk about
The Licensing Fiasco

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