And We Have Liftoff!

One of my earliest memories is the first time I rode a bike without training wheels.  We had a metallic-green banana seat Schwinn fixed gear bike with 12 inch wheels (airless tires made of solid rubber).  I can still clearly recall starting at the top of the driveway at our Nampa home, with my dad firmly holding the handle at the back of the seat.  As he guided me down the driveway, he said, "I'm going to let go now ..." but the sound of his voice was well behind me.  He had let go of the seat, and I hadn't even realized it.  I remember the rush I got from riding the green bike.  The freedom of riding with no training wheels.  I still enjoy riding my bike more than just about anything else.

I have put many miles on bikes in my lifetime.  We lived a mile outside of the city while I was growing up, and about 2 miles from my friends' homes.  I covered the dirt road between my house and my friends' houses many times on a metallic blue 1982 Schwinn Stingray.  I have seen some incredible things while riding on two wheels, and even today I still get a rush every time I clip into my pedals and zip down our driveway.

Fast forward to April 1, 2012.  Genevieve has grown very comfortable with her training wheels, and we have debated at length how to wean her off them.  We decided to spend $15 on a set of elbow & knee pads and gloves.  Now, lest you believe we're "helicopter parents" who are afraid of our child getting hurt, you obviously haven't experienced Genevieve in pain.  When she scrapes her leg on a branch or skins it falling down, she will limp for days, and will refuse to let you clean it for even longer.  The last thing we need is a spectacular (or even minor) bike wreck to set her back on her path to riding without training wheels.  More importantly, we put the pads on Genevieve to give her the last bit of confidence she needs to make the next step.

I took the pedals off her bike to make it a "balance bike" for about 15 minutes, and she asked me to put the pedals back on.  Here is what happened next:

I took a cue from my Dad, and gave Genevieve the same "I'm going to let go now" a few seconds after I had let her go.  The whole experience nearly brought tears to my eyes (but didn't, because of course, I'm an Iron Man).  After a few rides, Genevieve looked like this:

For the next hour, Genevieve took wider and wider circles around the huge parking area, expanding the reach of her new freedom.  Even when she rode around the backside of the building so that we couldn't see her, we could still feel her enthusiasm.  It's difficult to describe the pure joy on her face and coursing through her whole being.  And it's even more difficult to describe my own joy as I pass along an element of my own life that has brought me to so many beautiful and challenging heights.