Cycling 101

My father taught me to ride a bike the same way that he taught me every other important thing in life (stick with me on this...).  There was one key educational component to everything that he imparted on me: Fear.  It was the way he taught me to swim, the way he taught me to drive, and the way he taught me to ride a bike.  I can think back and the only thing I clearly remember was the firm grip of his big hand on my shoulder and the other on the handlebars next to mine.  Then he would walk and then run beside me as I pedaled.  It is a scene that I had seen a hundred times when I was a kid with other parents and other kids.  I even see it now as an adult sitting in the park from time to time.  A cute little girl will be sitting on a pink little bike and one or sometimes both parents will be with her, holding on, shouting encouragements.  For a moment, my heart is warmed and I move on.

Sometimes there are training wheels.  Sometimes, they do not let go.  I never had training wheels and I was told from the beginning, before I even got on to the bike, that my dad was going to let go.  There was never any doubt.  It was the same when I sat in his lap and he let me steer around the my grampa's farm and the same when he would take me out beyond where my feet could touch the ground in the public pool at the Y.  He always told me that he would let me go.

It was always my comfort that he would be near, though.  When he let go, he would hover until I got the feel for whatever it was and then he would pull slowly away.  With swimming, I could feel weightless and look under the water with my little goggles on.  With driving, I could feel the wheel respond and adjust and later, when I could reach the pedals, it was not so odd to feel the machine respond.

The bike was something different.  Yes, in a car you can go for miles and miles, but there is always the sense of someone else being with you or at least being able to be with you.  Swimming is much the same.  Cycling has always been a whole other animal for me.  The first time Daddy let me go, I felt as though, so long as I had air in my tires, I could go forever and when he let me go, I knew I could go alone.

A few weeks ago, I broke my leg.  It is my first broken bone.  It has not stopped me from driving and I was fitted with an air cast so I can still take it off and swim, albeit slowly and awkwardly, if I want.  I have never wanted to ride my bike so much as I do right now, though.

Riding is that perfect combination of things, that meld of body and machine.  I can further on a bike.  My machine and I can carry more and go faster.  Though it augments my strength, it is still my strength.  Every day, I see people riding and going to strange new places all on a bike, all under their own power.  I miss it and a small part of me is jealous.

A larger part of me is anxious and ready.  I rode my bike a lot when I was well, but never really far and rarely really fast.  Falling that cold April morning was a lesson in a number of ways,  First, watch for gravel and second, take advantage of the ability to do it while you can.  I am already planning my first trip.  I will be traveling across a state that my mother called home before meeting my dad and being hauled up north to be the wife of a teacher.

I have been here for about a month now and I have since traveled to a couple of nearby cities and a couple of neighboring states.  This is the longest I have been in the south and the people wonder about my accent, part southern twang from my mom and part Jamaica Queens.  I can't walk far and I feel guilty for driving.  The road calls to be pedaled. I need distance and it has to be under my own power.

Acid Mustafa in Thailand, making me jealous

Lesson number one is fear. Conquer it and go.  There are myriad other lessons to learn but that is the first and most important.  I am learning that thousands of people are riding all over the world, getting farther and farther afield of their comfort zones and I am jealous.

Carol Jordan is a chef, photographer, and blogger and can be followed at @9t9knives

on twitter or reached at 9of9productions@gmail.com