After three weeks of successfully, in my opinion, beginning my journey into cycling and two beautiful days of twenty mile rides (42 miles) I fell.
I did not fall in any of my efforts. My process is strategic and safe. I have the proper riding garments, helmet, gloves, and I take all the necessary precautions for an invigorating but safe road ride on my bicycle. My fall, on the other hand, was the result of me being a dad and taking my son on a ride beyond the street we allow him to ride on his own.
He wanted to ride his bike beyond the strip of street we allow him to ride alone. His older brother, whom we allow to ride collectively around the block, was occupied with the silliness of some television program he could have watched any time. I decided to be dad and not force his older brother to ride with him and take him for a bike ride. Besides, I could work on some cycling skills during a casual ride through the neighborhood. So, we went riding.
Casually crusing through the neighborhood we road and road and road. I’m sure we road three to four miles. But, who’s counting.
There we were on the last stretch of the ride, not too far from home. Working on some standing and peddling excercises for cycling, I stood up, shifted to the appropriate gears, entered the last turn, looked back to ensure my son was safe, and behind me. I was good. Amidst the final stages of the turn while still doing everything else I just reported, I reach to adjust my hand position from the upper bars to the lower bars and there I go tumbling to the ground. A task I had just completed several times in this moment became an ultimate fail.
I reached for the lower bars, standing up, with all my weight away from the center of the bike, hands slipped and missed the lower bars and all my weight goes forward, and to the ground. I fell. I don’t fall. But, I fell.
I get up. Let my son know I’m okay. Get home and start doctoring on all of my injuries. I am okay with doctoring my injuries but I do not like being slowed down by my injuries.
If there is a lesson to be learned, it is being a dad is hazardous, dangerous, painful, and is worth every last cut, scrape, bruise, and injury. My sons’ memories of us riding bikes together is worth every fall.