The crisp air made it feel more
like Fall than Spring, but as I limped along Rock Creek on my morning run
this past Saturday the bright sun made for a beautiful day despite the
unseasonably cool late-April temperatures. I was headed up Beach Avenue (which
is closed to vehicular traffic on weekend mornings) just a little north of the
old Pierce Mill when I noticed a very young boy ferociously peddling his small
bicycle southbound through the park without the assistance of training wheels…or
what appeared to be any immediate adult supervision. He was really motoring,
venturing out well-ahead of his other riders, and he had an expression on his
face that somehow seemed like a cross between exhilaration and terror.
He was moving along well for a kid learning to balance a
bike without assistance. You know the wobbly look of a new young rider…and if
you think hard, you might even remember the feeling. Like all new cyclists, the
boy was on the precipice of disaster. But for the most part he was laser
focused on the road ahead of him and able to quickly correct any momentary
lapses in balance with a swift adjustment of his weight or quick tweak of the
handlebars. Just before we passed in opposite directions, the kid seemed to
realize he was well-ahead of his fellow riders and inexplicably turned
hurriedly to his left to glance back over his shoulder. As he twisted to look,
he inadvertently jerked the handlebars to the left as well, and in an heartbeat
his adventure all went to hell. In what seemed like an instant, the bike
swerved violently as he slammed hard against the pavement and almost
immediately started wailing.
He was screaming loudly when a lone female cyclist directly
behind him (wasn’t a part of his group) stopped to come to his aid. I
reluctantly (just telling it like it is here…I hate interrupting runs) stopped
at the 2-mile mark to see if I could help as well. Just as I got there another
woman who appeared to be the boy’s mother rode up frantically. As the youngster
cried (he didn’t appear to be hurt badly if at all), the first woman (who’d had
a perfect view of the whole thing coming up fast behind him) told the
worried mother that the boy was riding along smoothly, but that he'd
turned to look behind him and suddenly crashed hard. Within minutes there
were probably ten nervous Good Samaritans (or at least folks who wanted to tell
a heroic story later that evening at an upscale Northwest restaurant) gathered
round seemingly trying to comfort the child. Seeing he was in about four good
hands, I resumed my run and wound my way creek-side up Beach toward the
three-mile half-way point at the Rock Creek Park Ranger Station.
Not long after crossing the stone bridge about a mile south
of the turnaround point, I ironically spotted a much younger lad who was also
attempting to maneuver his bicycle also without the benefit of training wheels.
Unlike the previous rider that was coming at me, this little boy was peddling
my direction. I was about 30 yards behind him when I first spotted him, and the
child was on the adventure of his young life. He tried bravely to balance his
bike as his loving father jogged along-side him steadying him with one hand on
the bike seat and one hand on his son's right shoulder. Then, as I got
closer, I heard the father repeating “you can do it…just keep your eye on the
road…look straight ahead…and keep your eye on the road.” As I got closer, I heard
the father say “I have to stop and tie my shoe” and he suddenly gave the kid a
little push to give him some momentum as he let go. The terrified little boy
screamed. He was shouting “I can’t, I can’t…Dad…don’t let go!” But the father
stood behind him (his shoe wasn’t really untied) and encouraged him to keep
going shouting “just keep your eye on the road…don’t look back…you can do
it…I’ll be right there.”
Well, the kid did pretty good initially, but it wasn’t long
before he lost control and veered into the curb crashing horribly. Actually,
that’s not what happened. The petrified boy kept peddling, and though it
appeared at first like it would end in certain catastrophe, the fledgling rider
slowly gained control of his two-wheel bike and managed to keep it steady for
the first ten yards. Then it was twenty, and thirty and what seemed like the
length of a football field. I said “great job” as I passed him, and as his
father continued to shout approval from behind (he was now jogging slowly not
really trying to to catch up and continued to coach his son to look forward) as
the exhilarated boy started shouting “Dad…look…I did it, I did it, I did it!”
Almost every adult has some memory of their maiden voyage on
a bike without training wheels. There’s something about taking that first leap
without the benefit of the stabilizing aid as a safety net. You don’t get an
unlimited amount of chances to do something big in life as an adult, and the
difference between those that truly achieve and those that just cruise like me often
boils down to taking risk…even when there’s a gazillion good reasons not to.
Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have a little push too, so if you’re considering
whether or not to do something bold, think about the John Burroughs quote…“Leap
and the net will appear.” Over the course of my life I’ve often been skeptical
if the net really will appear...but the more I think about it now, the more I
realize the most talented people are just like the boys in the park. They just
need to leap and keep looking forward. If they do, there’s a good chance
they’ll never really need a net. If they do fall, they can just hit the
pavement and get up and keep riding.
Have a great Friday and an even better weekend. If you get
chance, do something you love with the people that care about you. When they
tally up the score at the end of the game, it’s moments like those that will
mean far more than anything you think is more important now. You can start the
day off right with a little good music...and if you do, you’ll have a better
Friday and a better weekend too. May seem risky…but it’s only three minutes of
listening and besides…it’s guaranteed. Now honestly, how many of those do you
really get these days?
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