This weekend Elisabeth finally learned to ride a bike.
She mastered this skill a full two years after Sam–not that anyone around here is keeping track. (This is a joke. Twins are always keeping track. Elisabeth didn’t notice Sam zooming around on two wheels like Sam doesn’t notice Elisabeth is a full inch taller than she is. Ha.).
To be fair, Sam was made for tearing around on a bike, and Elisabeth was not. He is fast, reckless skinned knees; she is careful, detailed dresses.
Even though she didn’t want to join him scurrying up trees, she did want to be part of family bike rides. Mike and I talked about her learning to ride a bike enough that she also understood it was some kind of important rite of passage.
She had tried and tried to make it on two wheels, but she couldn’t do it.
We couldn’t tell her this, but bike-riding–like every other rite of passage in the world–depends on one thing.
Confidence.
Guts.
Chutzpah.
For the two years that Sam has been zooming around the cul de sac, Elisabeth has tried to ride her bike using her brain and her legs. She hasn’t risked investing her heart in the process, so she hasn’t gotten very far. In between shaky circles with a parent holding onto her seat, she would rest on the curb.
Over and over she repeated her honest reason for not riding her bike. “I am scared to fall.”
Her legs could feel the impending tumble every time she swerved too quickly. After watching Sam fly over his handlebars a time or two, her brain was sure she would also take a spill. With her brain and legs protesting, she just couldn’t ride that bike.
This weekend her heart was finally disgusted with being a spectator.
With her legs shaking and her mind protesting, she tried some cul de sac laps on her own.
Of course you know what happened next. As soon as her heart told her weak mind and legs, “BE QUIET! WE ARE DOING THIS!”….
…she did it.
Would it be too cliche to say her bike riding taught me a lesson?
I’ve been trying to tackle a handful of scary changes in my life with my skeptical, protesting brain and shaking legs.
Watching Elisabeth find her courage inspired me to do the same.
If my six-year-old can enlist her heart in conquering her fear of falling, then I can do to the same.
What about you?
What’s your bike-riding challenge?
What do your mind and legs tell you?
What about your heart?
