Brake-ing Bad

My son Lionel has a deep love for biking that surpasses my own. While it may be an exaggeration to say he's already likely biked farther than me, there's no denying his passion for it. He certainly learned to ride at a younger age than I did.

Reflecting on my early biking days, I recall a lack of understanding about brakes, preferring to stop by crashing into immovable objects until a run-in with a front step and then a glass door taught me otherwise. Ironically, perhaps my longest ride was for a fundraiser dubbed "the marathon," aiming for 26.2 miles. I got pledges from neighbors agreeing to pay a certain amount for every mile I rode; I’m pretty sure I maxed out at 9 miles, which would be the same number of donuts I ate.

Now, Lionel embraces biking with a mixture of pride and worry for me. He craves speed, zipping down ramps and ringing his bell as if this should be enough warning and protection. While he can navigate people (usually), obstacles like curbs and holes pose challenges due to his visual impairment. I encourage his independence, though protective instincts do kick in. To ease my concerns and nurture his passion, we've acquired a trail-a-bike, allowing us to pedal together at Lionel's desired bolt-like pace.

Now that spring has sprung, we are able to enact our training plan for RAGBRAI. Lionel and I ride to and from school each day and go for a bike ride with the cycle club at our school on Thursdays. Just like the marathon, we will try to have one day each week for a real long ride. So far, Lionel loves it, and I am beginning to come around on the idea of biking being more than just a form of transportation. As Lionel are now on the third week of our training plan, I've learned that the road ahead is paved with more than just asphalt—it's a path of growth, shared experiences, and the realization that sometimes the best adventures are the ones you pedal into with an open heart.