I celebrated my 45th birthday by getting a mountain bike. The mere sight of it made me feel like a hardcore biker - hunter green with black stripes, 9 gears, adjustable seats and disc brakes. Of course, I was hardly that. The last time I rode on a bike I was about 10 years old and the bike only had one speed. Still I figured, how hard could it be?
On my first ride, I was wobbly but upright. Then I went downhill, turned a corner too fast and crashed. Well technically, the bike crashed. I jumped and got off with only a minor scratch on my shin but with a major bruise on my ego. I got on again and did a couple of kilometers without falling. When I got off, my legs were shaking and my fingers sore from gripping the handlebars too tight. But I told myself, “I can do this.”
Fortunately, I got lots of help. I asked a friend to teach me how to use my gears. He’d say, “shift to a lower gear!” and I’d move it to a lower number. “That’s a higher gear!” he’d yell. Why on earth would they make a higher number mean a lower gear? “Use your granny gear,” he’d advise. Granny gear? My grandmother would rather die than ride something like this. Whoever designs bikes must not be a woman.
I joined Women on Wheels and our instructor on bike safety said, “Put your left hand out to signal before you turn. Hand down if turning left, up if turning right.” But if I take one hand off the bars, I am going to crash! Why aren’t there signal lights on a bike?
“You might want to lift your butt when you go up a big hump,” another suggested. You must be kidding. I have enough trouble staying on my seat, now you want me to get off it?
Struggling up a hill on my first group ride, a friend cajoled me, “C’mon just keep pedaling. Even if you’re the oldest biker here, you can do this!” Dude, I am going to get to the top of that hill and when I do, I am going to kill you for reminding everyone about my age!
It’s been four months since I’ve re-learned how to ride a bike. Since then I’ve fallen, gotten nicked, bumped and bruised. But I don’t mind. I love the strain on my thighs when going uphill and the wind on my face when I am going downhill. I enjoy the adrenaline rush when I master a particularly tough part of a trail. I grin inside when I ride past a group of men bikers huffing and puffing their way up a hill.
And it’s not just what I am able to do on my bike. I ride because it reminds me that I’m never too old to learn something new. It’s taught me to always get up after I fall and that practice is really the only way I can become better today than I was yesterday.
I’ve discovered that the only way to keep my balance is to keep pedaling and not to stop. I’ve realized that the only way to get through a difficult path is to look far ahead and keep my eye on my destination.
Biking has pushed me to conquer my fears. I’ve balked at going down an incline only to laugh at myself because it was easier than I thought. But I have also learned that it’s okay to admit your limitations. Sometimes, it’s wiser to get off than fall off.
I’ve learned that there is no shame in letting others know when you are struggling - people are nicer than you think. I have also made so many new friends simply because I tried a new path.
I understand now how my will and doubts can shape my ability. It’s when I have misgivings that I fall and when I believe in myself that I soar.
So I bike – knowing I’ll never do a wheelie or win a race, but because it reminds me that many of life’s lessons can be learned while on two wheels.
On my first ride, I was wobbly but upright. Then I went downhill, turned a corner too fast and crashed. Well technically, the bike crashed. I jumped and got off with only a minor scratch on my shin but with a major bruise on my ego. I got on again and did a couple of kilometers without falling. When I got off, my legs were shaking and my fingers sore from gripping the handlebars too tight. But I told myself, “I can do this.”
Fortunately, I got lots of help. I asked a friend to teach me how to use my gears. He’d say, “shift to a lower gear!” and I’d move it to a lower number. “That’s a higher gear!” he’d yell. Why on earth would they make a higher number mean a lower gear? “Use your granny gear,” he’d advise. Granny gear? My grandmother would rather die than ride something like this. Whoever designs bikes must not be a woman.
I joined Women on Wheels and our instructor on bike safety said, “Put your left hand out to signal before you turn. Hand down if turning left, up if turning right.” But if I take one hand off the bars, I am going to crash! Why aren’t there signal lights on a bike?
“You might want to lift your butt when you go up a big hump,” another suggested. You must be kidding. I have enough trouble staying on my seat, now you want me to get off it?
Struggling up a hill on my first group ride, a friend cajoled me, “C’mon just keep pedaling. Even if you’re the oldest biker here, you can do this!” Dude, I am going to get to the top of that hill and when I do, I am going to kill you for reminding everyone about my age!
It’s been four months since I’ve re-learned how to ride a bike. Since then I’ve fallen, gotten nicked, bumped and bruised. But I don’t mind. I love the strain on my thighs when going uphill and the wind on my face when I am going downhill. I enjoy the adrenaline rush when I master a particularly tough part of a trail. I grin inside when I ride past a group of men bikers huffing and puffing their way up a hill.
And it’s not just what I am able to do on my bike. I ride because it reminds me that I’m never too old to learn something new. It’s taught me to always get up after I fall and that practice is really the only way I can become better today than I was yesterday.
I’ve discovered that the only way to keep my balance is to keep pedaling and not to stop. I’ve realized that the only way to get through a difficult path is to look far ahead and keep my eye on my destination.
Biking has pushed me to conquer my fears. I’ve balked at going down an incline only to laugh at myself because it was easier than I thought. But I have also learned that it’s okay to admit your limitations. Sometimes, it’s wiser to get off than fall off.
I’ve learned that there is no shame in letting others know when you are struggling - people are nicer than you think. I have also made so many new friends simply because I tried a new path.
I understand now how my will and doubts can shape my ability. It’s when I have misgivings that I fall and when I believe in myself that I soar.
So I bike – knowing I’ll never do a wheelie or win a race, but because it reminds me that many of life’s lessons can be learned while on two wheels.