When I tell people I can’t swim, they wax lyrical and tell me how once I start I’ll take it to it ‘like a duck to water’ and then follow with a bunch more similies before ending the trip down memory lane with ‘anyway it’s like learning to ride a bike’ once you learn you’ll be fine.
At this point, I rapidly change the subject.
Sometimes I’ve been brave and told people I can’t ride a bike, this is normally followed with “you don’t forget, just get back out there” again I rapidly change the subject. I will clarify for you and those people right now.
I CAN’T RIDE A BIKE. I never had one, I never had my Dad run along and let go. I don’t understand padded shorts or grumbles about traffic. I can’t relate to wanting to do a Duathlon or Triathlon (see above). And I feel stupid whenever anyone posts a fun ride to coffee, cake or lunch – my favourite things.
This was until July. When I decided that things HAD to change. Or at least I had to try, I had a sneaking suspicion that my lack of balance, dexterity and hand eye coordination which put me off sport at school, might also deter me from the so called ‘easiest of all things’. learning to ride a bike.
So with the help of friends, I got out there and bloody did it.
Winter has hit and my bike has been in the garage for a few weeks, I’m scared of forgetting, but equally scared of getting back on my bike.
This is certainly a marathon not a sprint. Please don’t send me bike races, please don’t invite me on a 100km ride, please don’t sign me up for London to Brighton. But if you fancy a bimble or a laugh please do come for a ride with me – I need all the help I can get.