Now that I’ve come to this revelation that I TOO can cry in the woods, I just had to get on my bike and do it – right?!? It wasn’t that easy. Although Amy had offered to ride with me, it was just too embarrassing, so I enlisted my husband. He HAS to take me out – he married me, right??
There are some things I didn’t think about in regards to this arrangement, however. Like, the fact that he had, in fact, ridden a bicycle out of the womb. He really didn’t know how to relate to someone who literally couldn’t get on the bike and start pedaling. He also felt I should just continue to ride clipped in, and that my seat should be all the way up, where it belonged. Sitting up so high was TERRIFYING. If I wanted to put a foot down, all I could really put down was a toe! This meant I would lean further so I could put my foot down flat. And this meant, inevitably, I would just fall over.
Also, I was 37 years old. When you’re a kid, you have a lot less further to fall, and a lot less obligations to worry about if you do fall and, heaven forbid, break something. At 37, I thought for sure that falling from so high up would certainly mean I would break something. And at 37, I had responsibilities: a job, bills to pay, pets to care for. I’d never broken a bone, and wasn’t intending on doing so now!
These sessions with Kent often ended in bruises and tears for me, and frustration for him. Kent is not the most patient of people, but he has an amazing amount of patience for me. For this, I am extremely grateful. But frustration was inevitable. I was crying and frustrated, and he just didn’t know what to do with me. He couldn’t teach me in a style that worked for me.
Showing off my injuries – feelin’ tough 
Doesn’t hurt. Nope.
Amy Steps In…
During this time, Amy kept asking, “Want to go for a ride?”
“No,” I would say, “I’m just not ready yet.”
She was patient, and always accepted my answer. It was solely my EGO holding me back. Not wanting someone else to see just how bad I was. Amy was respectful of this. She knew I needed time. Eventually however, she decided that I had been given enough time.
“WE’RE GOING FOR A RIDE,” she texted one day. “I HAVE A PLAN.”
And indeed she did. She told me to have Kent change my pedals, and for me to wear my sneakers. She picked me up. Loaded up my bike. Drove us to the trail head. Walked with me as I walked my bike across the parking lot, across the street, through the barriers, and onto the trail (I didn’t ride anywhere yet except right from the trail). She eyeballed my bike, before she pulled off the tape on my seat post that Kent had placed to mark the spot he had painstakingly measured so that my position was perfect. She put the seat down, so I could put my feet down.
Amy told me the plan. She had it all thought out. Today, we weren’t worried about miles. We weren’t worried about time. That wasn’t the goal. TODAY, we were going to learn to get on the bike, and start pedaling. THAT WAS IT. THAT WAS THE GOAL. And afterwards, we were going for dinner and drinks.
She broke it down step by step, first starting with me putting one foot on a pedal, pushing off with the other, and just getting comfortable getting my balance as the bike moved forward. This involved a lot of me pushing off, then landing with that same foot, essentially hopping one foot at a time across the trail. But eventually, my bike went forward. Eventually, I felt balance.
From there, she had me trying to get my butt onto the seat after I pushed off. And finally, I had my other foot on the other pedal, and was pedaling forward! LOOK AT ME! I’M RIDING!
“Ok,” she’d say. “See that pole up ahead? I want you to stop there.”
I stopped and looked back, waiting for further instructions.
“Now, start again,” she’d say.
This is how our ride progressed. Me hopping, false-starting, and finally getting on and pedaling, with her telling me to stop, and start again. After what felt like hours, with me completely sweaty, out of breath, and exhausted, we called it a night.
WE HAD GONE 2.37 MILES IN 28 MINUTES…
When I realized the short distance we’d gone, and the little time we spent, I was disappointed!
“You’ve got to be kidding me!! That’s it?!?”
And for the first of many, many times, Amy corrected me. She reminded me that we weren’t out there for time or for mileage. We were out there to start and to stop. And although I hadn’t completely mastered it, I could now get on my bike and start. Maybe I had a couple false starts first, but I could do it. Then, I could stop, and start again. That had been the goal. And we’d accomplished it!
And she was right. This is something I would need to remind myself of over and over and over again. That no matter how the ride went, no matter how long you were out, or how far you went, there were ALWAYS THINGS TO BE PROUD OF. There were ALWAYS THINGS YOU DID RIGHT. And you FOCUS ON THOSE, NOT THE THINGS THAT WENT WRONG. So, I was on my way! I was riding my bike!! And all I had to do was swallow my pride, and accept the help.
