Hi.
Some things scare me. Things that I feel like an almost-thirty-eight-year-old should really know, but that I still don’t know. Finding new places (with my non-existant sense of direction) scares me. After being a vegetarian for years, correctly cooking meat–and even eggs–scares me. Accessorizing scares me…because no matter what necklace I wear, the necklace ends up wearing me. I feel like, “HELLO! I’M WEARING A NECKLACE! LOOK!”
Riding a bike scares me.
It didn’t always. As a kid that lived waaayyyyy out in the country, riding a bike was a needed skill. There were no 7-11s within walking distance. To get anywhere, you had to embrace the two wheels. And I did, and I loved the freedom, and the wind whipping through my hair, and the excitement of going places.
But here’s the thing about riding a bike in the country…you ride on the roads. Dirt or paved or pot-holed or whatever, you ride right down the center of it. Because, of course there are no sidewalks or stoplights or crosswalks so it’s just you, your bike, and the open road.
Then, at eighteen, I went to college in a town so tiny that I could walk everywhere. And then I moved to Houston and lived in an area so urban that freeways intersected outside my window. The only people brave enough to bike were those who saddled shopping bags on the back and lived under the overpass.
Then I married M, who is a very good biker, but who prefers mountain-type bikes. I tried his bike, but I had to lean way over to ride it and it had sixty-two gears or something, and I realized that I had no idea about bike hand signals or if bikes really are vehicles too or where to ride the darn thing in suburban America.
So, I left the family bike rides to him and the kids and stayed in my snug satisfaction that I was more of a jogger and never needed to embrace the bike. (Only I’m not a jogger because I hate it, but bikes intimidated me because you have to wear a helmet and that seemed way too dangerous for someone with questionable athletic skills).
Fast forward to last week when it became clear that the best way to get Catie to and from school was by walking the mile and a half (round-trip) and picking her up. It also became clear that making our three littler kids hike that far in the blinding, triple-digit heat wasn’t fair or comfortable or sane.
What was fair, and comfortable, and sane was what all the other mommies were doing. Riding bikes.
That’s right. Those other thirty-eight-year-olds who cook tender meat and wear the right necklaces were zipping through the crosswalks and stop lights with their helmets and bike trailers and spandex. And, I knew, it was time to face my fear and embrace the bike.
So, last night, after not riding a bike for more than twenty years, we bought the one pictured above. The whole family took the minivan over to Target while the kids helped me pick out a bike and a helmet and a bell.
Then we walked out to the van, and M handed me the bike and told me to ride home.
Which, to be honest, really freaked me out. But my kids were watching, and I wanted to teach them self-confidence…and not to be afraid of things like cooking meat or riding bikes on busy streets.
So, I did it! I rode my bike all the way home in the dark!
I was so proud of myself that I felt like I could also cook rare brisket…I could also wear chunky turquoise necklaces….I could….
And then I had to focus. Because I momentarily forgot which direction my house was.
But I remembered and I got home safely…and it turned out that riding a bike is like riding a bike….you never forget how.
