At the Age of 56, I Finally Learned How to Ride a Bike

And I only fell down once

This Labor Day weekend I finally learned to ride a bike at the age of 56. 

This sounds like the beginning of a joke because most people learn to ride a bike as a child.  But there were a lot of things I never learned how to do as a child that come naturally to other people. 

The used bike I bought for $40 to use for practice. If I decide to really get into biking, I can upgrade next spring.

I was an awkward, quirky, shy girl and didn’t socialize much with other children.  Once my heart diagnosis arrived, my grandmother swooped in and wrapped me up in a virtual plastic bubble, never allowing me to visit other children’s houses nor letting them come over to visit me. 

Out of sight, out of mind.  Other children never gave a thought to me when the school day was over and they went to play with their other friends while I went home to sit inside the house, alone.  Children are a lot like adults that way.  We rarely think about other people when they aren’t around.

Early in my childhood, I had a small bike.  It was green with yellow daisies and a white basket with three plastic daisies on the front.  My father bought it and installed training wheels, then my parents got divorced.  Or maybe he bought the bike after the divorce.  I’m not sure. 

In a normal situation, those training wheels would have been removed once I learned to ride with them.  However, he was no longer around, and my mother didn’t possess the tools or the hand strength to loosen the bolts.  So, I rode a bike with training wheels until I outgrew the bike and didn’t ride it anymore.  We couldn’t afford a new bike.

When you grow up poor, there are a lot of rites of passage that lurk just beyond your reach.  Despite my crooked teeth, I never had braces.  We barely had money to keep the utilities paid which meant straight teeth were not even on the radar.  Swimming lessons require money.  Even going to the public pool required payment to enter and transportation to get there.  Thus, I never learned to swim.

My husband, the saint that he is, agreed to teach me to ride a bike.  He taught his two sons, so teaching me should be a breeze.  Not so much.  My balance is questionable even standing on my own two feet, and I can catastrophize any minor thing into tragedy. 

“Oh, no!  I’m going straight for the ditch!  Swerve!”  He watched the slow-motion train wreck of my unsteady pedaling as I avoided the ditch by miles and nearly crashed into the dog poop receptable at the local park instead.

He tells me I did well.  I only fell once, and I blame that partially on him as he said something funny which caused me to laugh so hard I couldn’t remember to balance, steer, and pedal all at the same time.  My descent to the ground was gradual, with me thinking I had it under control as I put down my foot, my knee, my hand, my shoulder, each coming a second behind the other.  Not a crash, but a crumple.  Nothing hurt but my pride.

After a couple days of practice, I’m confident in my ability to go in a straight line on a smooth surface.  Stopping and starting are still a work in progress but getting better.  The business of turning corners will take a little while to perfect as my balance issues make me feel like I’m falling with such sudden motions.  I’m prone to vertigo, and leaning to the side feels like the world is turning on its axis. 

All of this makes me think of the term, “It’s like riding a bike.”  Most people mean that a thing is easy, but for me it means it’s going to take a lot of effort and a lengthy learning curve.  For me, writing a book is like riding a bike.  Neither one come naturally.  You need to keep your eyes on where you’re going, balance all the parts and maintain your momentum.  There are many moving parts to keep going in the correct order in the proper rhythm.  Throw one little thing out of balance and the whole thing comes crashing down. But once you’re in the proper groove, it’s smooth sailing.

Really, isn’t that a metaphor for life?  Every day we need to keep all the moving parts going, the plates spinning, the wheels turning.  Sometimes we need to set those plates down and just enjoy the simple motion of gliding straight ahead, feeling the wind in our faces. 

What is the one thing you’ve always wanted to learn to do but never had the courage, the time, the cash?  What have you not done since you were a child?  Pick something, no matter how small, and do it this week.  Go ride a bike, fly a kite, roller skate. 

None of us are getting out of this place alive, so you might as well live it up!

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