A Bicycle Built for Two

In a previous life I was a cyclist. Not a super competitive cyclist but I loved to ride. I hit the Drive every weekend and loved doing events like the MS 150 City to Shore ride. For me to bike 75 miles in a day was no biggie. I had the bike (a sweet bianchi), had the clothes, had the legs, and had a 'tude to go along with it. Then I had Grace. Giganto baby caused some major problems on her exit and after a torn pernieal muscle, the thought of sitting on a sliver of a bike seat for any length of time was absolutely horrific.

That was over a year ago and I still haven't been able to muster the courage to get back into cycling. It's not that it hurts anymore but I really hate to do anything that I'm not good at. I don't like the idea of getting on my bike and struggling to find the right gears, feeling a burn in my quads too early, or struggling for breath. I know, I know-- this is a major character flaw. But it's true and I tend to get miserable when I don't excel. Like when my spouse and I shoot hoops or play Trivial Pursuit. It gets ugly and nasty. There's lots of name calling and then crying--not him--me. I know--real mature. I should probably get this under control before Grace realizes what's going on. I'm learning that sometimes being a parent means acting like an adult. This is definitely a sucky side of parenting.

Today we decided to get on our bikes. We figured with Grace on a bike seat, perhaps I'd be more inclined to explore some local parks and get back into it. Plus, we like being outside and love the idea of family, fun exercise. But, like doing anything with a child, this was an ordeal. We had to wait until a bike shop opened to purchase a seat. And then my husband had to install it. This took time. I was watching the minutes click away knowing full well there is a relatively small window for doing any activity with Grace. Will it interfere with snack time? Will it interfere with lunch? How about nap time? These are crucial questions when dealing with Grace.

By 10:30 we were finally on our way. We weren't terribly optimistic because Grace hates hats. Protective parents that we are, we purchased an adorable helmet for her (complete with bees and purple flowers- I loved it and had to have it). Now you've heard of Grace's impression of Cujo so imagine trying to fit Cujo with a bike helmet. This is what our morning was like. She instantly began clawing at it and issuing blood-curling screams. The only time she stopped was when Dakota the Giant Horse sauntered by. I salute you Dakota. You gave us a minute of peace while we all pondered your massive size.

I thought if we got moving it would get better. So off we went with the wailing banshee in tow. Now for those of you who know me fairly well, you know that I'm not the queen of bike safety. I've had a number of pretty good crashes and so the thought of having a 24-pound-child on my bike was a bit daunting. It wasn't that bad but I have to remember the next time not to try and throw the bike side to side when going up a hill. This is not practicing good bike safety with a child behind you. Those extra pounds can really throw your balance.

One would think after 40 minutes of hysterics, Grace would be tired of voicing her displeasure. Old people tsk tsk'd us. Horses and their riders stared with sympathetic nods. A dad and his son rode by with the dad shaking his head knowing our pain. Dogs stared in confusion. You get the point--it was quite a spectacle. Over the past year, Grace has displayed similar behavior with her backpack. What cycling was/could be again to me, hiking is to my husband. That Grace screamed bloody murder in her pack was devastating to him. But recently, for reasons neither of us can explain, she's rebounded and loves the pack. I'm not sure if this will be the case with Grace and her seat/helmet but we'll try again. At least I'll try again. The other adult member of our party was pretty traumatized by the relentless screaming. But it did make me realize (despite the screams), how much I do like biking. If I make it out again with Grace, that would be great. I'd love to share my enthusiasm for the sport with her. If I go by myself, I can throw the bike all I want, crash at will, get annoyed at my flimsy quads, and know I'm easing my way back into the saddle once more.