6 September 2013
On Monday I went for a training run. I ran to and through a park a couple of miles from campus. As I emerged from a small thicket of trees, rounding a bend, I saw a young dad with his son sitting on the bench. A small bike was laying on the grass across the path from them. I immediately figured that the boy was learning how to ride a bike. As I passed by them again on my way out of the park, I saw the dad holding the bike up as the boy began to mount the bike… Do you remember the first time you learned how to ride a bike? Or simply, your first bike? I surely do. It was silver. My parents gave it to me with training wheels on it, which eventually came off once I learned how to properly balance the bike.
For many, their first bike and learning how to ride it, was their first form of freedom. Whether it was riding to the local store, or even to school, YOU DIDN’T NEED YOUR PARENTS TO BRING YOU. The wind in your hair, the sounds of air rushing past your ears, the smile on your face–as you sped down the street. We all know that feeling. It will forever live within us. It’s that element of ‘child’ in us. I get the feeling every time I get on my bike.