On June 1, 2013—just ten days before welcoming my second child—I decided it was time to face my long-standing fear: riding a bike. After three decades filled with bruised knees and a battered ego, I was ready to tackle this two-wheeled beast.
Growing up in the suburbs of New Jersey during the ’80s, I missed out on the typical childhood milestone of learning to ride a bike. I watched as my friends sped off, cheering each other on while I struggled to keep my balance. My attempts often ended in falls, leaving me frustrated and defeated. Eventually, I gave up and let a bike rust away in the overgrown weeds of my backyard, accepting that biking just wasn’t in my future.
When I got my driver’s license in 1995, I felt a sense of relief. Kids were biking less, and I could easily conceal my lack of cycling skills. This avoidance continued throughout college, where I walked or drove everywhere. It wasn’t until years later, while talking to my wife about my secret shame, that I realized I needed to confront my fear. She encouraged me, insisting it was time to learn.
In my late twenties, I tried to overcome my embarrassment. I borrowed my wife’s bike, but my efforts were met with the same results: I fell. A lot. I then sought assistance from a friend who was an avid cyclist, hoping his expertise would help me. After a few painful hours of practice, I still couldn’t ride. This failed attempt lingered in my mind for years, until my wife discovered an adult biking class offered by a local cycling organization. I thought this might be my chance to learn alongside others who shared my struggle.
As I prepared to join the class, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was reliving my childhood, watching others ride while I remained grounded. However, after much encouragement from my wife, I decided to buy a bike. The shop owner made a rather awkward metaphor, but I left with a new bike and a sense of determination.
Things shifted for me when my son, Jake, was born in 2009. Learning to ride was no longer just about me; I wanted to be the one to teach him. As my daughter’s due date drew closer, I mustered the courage to try the adult biking class once more. This time, I was driven by the thought of my children needing a parent who could ride with them.
With renewed motivation, I finally wobbled around the corner while instructors cheered me on. At 35, I didn’t fall. Fast forward to today; I’m no biking expert, but I can ride. I even took the training wheels off Jake’s bike this summer—an emotional milestone for both of us. He hasn’t mastered it yet, but I’ll be right there beside him when he takes his tumbles.
As I reflect on this journey, I realize that overcoming obstacles, whether learning to ride a bike or navigating parenthood, is part of what makes us who we are. For anyone interested in learning more about family building, this excellent resource on intrauterine insemination can provide valuable insights. And if you’re considering home insemination options, check out at-home insemination kits for practical solutions.
In summary, facing my fears and learning to ride a bike at 35 was a journey filled with challenges, but it ultimately transformed my approach to parenthood and beyond.