G is now a rider. An objective measurement: we go somewhere and do something cool, on her own 2 wheels.
Ironically, the day before I sold our double Burley d’Lite trailer.
i don’t believe i’ve ever felt so completely happy for another person. The last few times we’ve gone out have — by almost-5-yr-old standards — become increasingly epic. Multi-hour 2bike rides, and sandy hilly Rocky Point spins have opened her up to the possibilities begun of short trips to the park. Seeing it on her face freezes me in place with joy. Her eyes are filled with magic and reflect all the potential a bike brings. I have to catch myself from falling, i forget my own corporeality, I’m so moved by it.
i’m equally relieved, tired, and while not unimpressed, not at all surprised. We’ve been doing this together for almost 4 years. i traipsed through my blog and photos, and there are so many milestones. She’s had 8 different bikes, cause she’s been 8 different sizes. Failing in any possible effort to recall all our rides, i can legitimately say that countless times we’ve gone out on the bike together. progression. wow! whew! and i’m kinda tired. Every ride is so much work to gear and provision and wrench for two, to not become a trip to the hospital, to balance her stoke with her psyche and avoid meltdowns. Like her crying from the Central Avenue entrance of South Mountain all the way to Telegraph Pass, until she passed out, only to rally and continue screaming as we made the last push to the towers. Terrible Daddy made her wear a helmet. 2 years later she was thrilled with her new Nutcase, and within days had it covered in stickers. Note: Alana regularly puts on the cute bunny helmet that so soured G, she can’t wait to grow up to be Yayo.
Ups and downs and talking G off ledges. She made it through a thunderclap in the San Juans, only to be skittish the next ride in beautiful AZ sunshine. Hills that look big with almost no grade got in her head, introducing her to pushing up just so you can flow down fired her up. When we rode in Rocky Point over the holiday, as she tired i suggested we ride to the whale skeleton, and she rallied for another 20 minutes of spinning. The next day she pointed us there again. Each day she found energy to ride ramps, ride past her first fatigue, ride to something new and cool, and when she was fading again, I’d jump off something to put potential back in her eyes. Your daughter thinking you are Danny McKaskill is a rush! So is creating such a huge rush for such a tinyRider.
She stopped using training wheels last April, but its taken this long to train her balance and her quads and her ass and her mind, to be a biker. It all goes together: repetition enabling strength enabling balance enabling confidence enabling repetition. just like for anyone. So simple, but so hard to believe, after i’ve seen her born.
On her Big Day, we got her excited about a trip to Horizon Park. She panicked it wouldn’t be on the 2bike, that she would fall. Tis a long way with a long hill. We fluffed her, she wilted. I finally told her she was riding Lightning or we weren’t going, and when have i ever let you down on the bike? She was ready, just needed a shove. Less than a block out of the driveway and she was ready to tear some shit off.
Lightning is G’s latest bike: a used Specialized Hot Rock. i usually hate Specialized, but they got it right with this one. Allen bolts for the seat post and headset, tight geo, kickstand, wide-ass tires by tinySizes, and aluminum frame. Why most bike manufacturers make steel frames for 4 yr olds to repeatedly lift and have fall on them — I do not understand, when my aluminum frame bounces off everything Somo throws at it? We bought it for no special occasion, other than she’d hit a wall that a better-suited bike would help her bypass. #8, $90 on CraigsList, and I’ve since blinged the grips, given it a new nobby rear, and repacked the rear hub. Lightning is part of the Harem.
G and Lightning rode nearly a mile before taking a break. It was gradual downhill, but i was impressed by her patience, to keep riding it out and not get squirrely. she did not crack on the ensuing long slow push up over the canal. She thought about cracking, but it was more habit, like coffee. I swear i saw it click in her face, that she could just settle down and grind and push over the hill, then bomb the long graded descent. A little rest at the bottom, she drew inspiration from the finish to hammer through gravel and woodchips, and did pretty well! Surprising after she struggled in the sand in Rocky Point; it had clearly helped her.
The return rolled off her easier, I saw it immediately in how she ploughed back through the woodchips. She knew she could clean it, half in her mind and half in her body. She pedalled the whole hill over the canal, motivated to do it, with only an occasional push for assistance. There was a confidence about her the whole roll home. I taught her about gravel and concrete and rolling resistance, and she taught me about staying in the bike lane – lines of getting from here to there safely were starting to connect in her onboard nav.
Repetition enabling strength enabling balance enabling confidence enabling repetition.
I can’t help being so freakishly dialed in to her ride. i love that she does this with me, i can’t think of anything…*traipsing through 4 yrs of pics*…nope, nothing… more fun to do with your kids than ride bikes. but she has to be coached or she’ll get hurt. i’m not trying to make her be some kind of great rider, i just like riding bikes with her.
Compliments are really good for G. Sometimes she gets pumped by them, sometimes she is shy, sometimes she acknowledges the difficulty involved. A well-placed compliment guarantees you 10 seconds of effort, or a rebound from an ugly bailout. At the end of each ride Beckie and I tell G how great she’s doing, how proud we are, and how strong she is. We bump exploding rocks. Such a positive feedback loop, she wants to get that feeling, she trusts us.
Not long after G’s big ride, Kila got into something behind a dumpster at a little office complex we were cutting through. When I collected her, i found a good-condition 12 inch girls bike, that someone from my neighborhood tossed. Its worth about $40, and i am Scottsdale’s only dumpster-diver…but still, i couldn’t get such gratuitous wastefulness? How could you trash something that thrilled your little girl, when there is another little girl — a neighbor, a poor kid — who would love it? Alana drags her trikes up and down the driveway, struggling to be an inch taller so she can pedal, desperately wanting to play with her sister and her daddy. I bet she will be just 4 when she does what G did.
I went CSI on the new bike: the streamers were cleanly picked off but the grips and tires were in outstanding shape, and the stem and seat post were as extended as possible. Who knows? Maybe the daughter was 13 now and living with her mom, maybe she was perfect, maybe they were getting foreclosed, maybe they needed to pull their car in and really could have used the TV boxes i pitched in the same dumpster last summer.
A desperate housewife at the park commented on how young G was to be riding there, and within 60 seconds let us know her daughter’s equestrian level. The only thing i could think to say was “this is what we do.” There are a lot of disconnected and obsessively connected parents in Scottsdale, so apathetic and so winsome, so solid and so transparent. I’m doing my best to float in the center of this helix. G’s riding gives me belief i’ve done right, and have made something beautiful.
