A Cyclist is Born

My niece, Morgan, told me she had balanced on a bike and wanted to practice with me while I was in Virginia. To hear her tell it she had managed to stay upright while coasting downhill. Not exactly riding a bike, but a huge milestone and a necessary step on the way to full blown pedal crankin’ glory.

So, on Thanksgiving morning, with seven enthusiastic onlookers, Morgan, bedecked in a pink shirt and matching helmet, took a gentle push from her Mom and did not just balance, but also pedaled, used brakes and executed turns with aplomb. In short, she rode. She took a spill, heard an encouraging word and shrugged it off and rode more. For the second time on a bike, she absolutely killed it. She bounced off a curb and brushed some bushes and showed some mountain biking chops that will have me upping my trail game when she is older. 

 

Cranking uphill on the Bicycle Proving Ground (church parking lot)

Solid left lean, allowing her weight to make the turn

Me and Jake racing while Mom looks on

I was on training wheels for a year before I took my first wobbly ride down Rogers Street, at age 6. Since then I have ridden countless miles for pleasures, for commuting, for adventure and sometime just for the experience of moving. Seeing Morgan’s smile made me appreciate the simple joy of riding a bike and the freedom it entails.  Here is to a lifetime of riding, for Me, Morgan, Jake and anyone else who finds happiness upon two wheels.