There's something about bicycles and kids that put everything into perspective.
When my personal stress meter starts going into the red zone, just heading out the back door and watching Alex chase the neighbour kids with a green thing from his nose brings the old stress meter back into black.
It's hard to take yourself too seriously when the neighbours are watching you running around the playground in bare feet and track pants yelling at a four-year-old to "put down the booger."
Bicycle have the same effect. Whether watching a preschooler trying to ride without training wheels or heading out on a three-hour epic on Mt. Seymour, the end result is the same.
I got to do both this weekend.
Alex wanted to try riding with just two wheels, so on Saturday we headed to the park and rolled him down the hill a few times so he could work on his balance. I have to admit he has the athletic ability of his father and after a few crashes, we headed home for dry clothes and hot chocolate.
Then it was my turn.
On Sunday, the guys and I headed to Lower Seymour, rode the access road to Fisherman's, crossed Twin Bridges and tried to make it to Old Buck via Bridal Path. We crashed frequently and had to cut the ride short for hot choc . . . , er, hot wings and beer, but the end result was the same as the day before--happy, muddy and stress-free.
When my personal stress meter starts going into the red zone, just heading out the back door and watching Alex chase the neighbour kids with a green thing from his nose brings the old stress meter back into black.
It's hard to take yourself too seriously when the neighbours are watching you running around the playground in bare feet and track pants yelling at a four-year-old to "put down the booger."
Bicycle have the same effect. Whether watching a preschooler trying to ride without training wheels or heading out on a three-hour epic on Mt. Seymour, the end result is the same.
I got to do both this weekend.
Alex wanted to try riding with just two wheels, so on Saturday we headed to the park and rolled him down the hill a few times so he could work on his balance. I have to admit he has the athletic ability of his father and after a few crashes, we headed home for dry clothes and hot chocolate.
Then it was my turn.
On Sunday, the guys and I headed to Lower Seymour, rode the access road to Fisherman's, crossed Twin Bridges and tried to make it to Old Buck via Bridal Path. We crashed frequently and had to cut the ride short for hot choc . . . , er, hot wings and beer, but the end result was the same as the day before--happy, muddy and stress-free.
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