Exciting events this past week shifted my son, Phoenix, and me into a new space in our cycling relationship. As I mentioned in my first blog, I decided to honor Phoenix’s year-long request to get a road bike. It seemed reasonable because he wants to compete in triathlons at a high level. Entering him in highly competitive races where the top performers are hammering down the course on road bikes and he’s peddling a mountain bike didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. Once my empathy button was activated, my consumer dad mentality kicked in.
Taking him on a surprise venture last week to a local bike shop to test ride a youth road bike was a memorable experience for us both. His excitement resurrected my first bike memory when I snuck downstairs from my bedroom very early one Christmas morning and went over to the tree. There stood a shiny, red bike with training wheels. As I tried to sneak back upstairs Mom probed me in her stern voice, “Billy, what are you doing?” Elated, and unfazed, I replied, “Santa came, and he brought me a red bike—it’s a beauty.” Ironically, I was about a month away from turning seven, nearly the same age as Phoenix is now. But, unlike Phoenix, I would never ride bikes with my dad even though I recall him teaching me how to ride without training wheels.
Today, just six days removed from my slightly nervous test ride with Phoenix as he experimented with his first ride on a road bike, I’m already generating fond daydreams based on the past several days of joint riding.
Two days ago we had our first taste of exhilaration when we created a new bonding ritual with our bikes. About six miles into our ride I challenged him to ride hard so that we could prevent another cyclist from overtaking us. Roughly twenty seconds after we began to retrace our path at the turnaround point on the paved bike trail, I noticed a serious cyclist approaching us from the front. I assumed he too would do the turnaround and be on our wheels shortly. When he passed us initially going the other direction, I looked at Phoenix on my right and challenged him by saying, “Let’s stay away and not let that guy catch us. He’s gonna turn around like we did.” With a little prodding, I convinced Phoenix and we both accelerated. Twenty seconds later I turned around and spotted the rider and warned Phoenix that he was coming. For the next three miles Phoenix and I monitored the trailing rider. At one point Phoenix insisted he had “no more power,” so I narrowed my challenge and told him that we should at least “hold the guy off until we reach Parker Road”—about a mile away. After that “carrot” eventually gave way to his exhausted legs, lungs, and mental focus I told him to “take my wheel” and draft behind me, which he did. He’s watched enough coverage of the Tour de France to understand the basic logic of breakaways and pursuits where riders either leave the peloton (main group of riders) or try to catch those who have accelerated and gone out ahead of their competitors. We made it to Parker Road in the lead, barely, before being overtaken by a fit looking man probably in his early twenties.
Our first stab at “team riding” tested his limits and gave us a cool workout memory. I’ll be looking out for similar opportunities to challenge him to go fast and hard as my “teammate.”
Off the bike, I have been creating ritual time with him by periodically watching a neat video that showcases the Youth and Junior National Championships slated for West Chester, Ohio, August 3, 2104. He continues to tell me that he wants to go and compete against the “best seven-year-olds in the nation.” Watching this video stimulates his desire to train, an important benefit since we have yet to find a steady, serious training buddy for him.
Taking him on a surprise venture last week to a local bike shop to test ride a youth road bike was a memorable experience for us both. His excitement resurrected my first bike memory when I snuck downstairs from my bedroom very early one Christmas morning and went over to the tree. There stood a shiny, red bike with training wheels. As I tried to sneak back upstairs Mom probed me in her stern voice, “Billy, what are you doing?” Elated, and unfazed, I replied, “Santa came, and he brought me a red bike—it’s a beauty.” Ironically, I was about a month away from turning seven, nearly the same age as Phoenix is now. But, unlike Phoenix, I would never ride bikes with my dad even though I recall him teaching me how to ride without training wheels.
Today, just six days removed from my slightly nervous test ride with Phoenix as he experimented with his first ride on a road bike, I’m already generating fond daydreams based on the past several days of joint riding.
Two days ago we had our first taste of exhilaration when we created a new bonding ritual with our bikes. About six miles into our ride I challenged him to ride hard so that we could prevent another cyclist from overtaking us. Roughly twenty seconds after we began to retrace our path at the turnaround point on the paved bike trail, I noticed a serious cyclist approaching us from the front. I assumed he too would do the turnaround and be on our wheels shortly. When he passed us initially going the other direction, I looked at Phoenix on my right and challenged him by saying, “Let’s stay away and not let that guy catch us. He’s gonna turn around like we did.” With a little prodding, I convinced Phoenix and we both accelerated. Twenty seconds later I turned around and spotted the rider and warned Phoenix that he was coming. For the next three miles Phoenix and I monitored the trailing rider. At one point Phoenix insisted he had “no more power,” so I narrowed my challenge and told him that we should at least “hold the guy off until we reach Parker Road”—about a mile away. After that “carrot” eventually gave way to his exhausted legs, lungs, and mental focus I told him to “take my wheel” and draft behind me, which he did. He’s watched enough coverage of the Tour de France to understand the basic logic of breakaways and pursuits where riders either leave the peloton (main group of riders) or try to catch those who have accelerated and gone out ahead of their competitors. We made it to Parker Road in the lead, barely, before being overtaken by a fit looking man probably in his early twenties.
Our first stab at “team riding” tested his limits and gave us a cool workout memory. I’ll be looking out for similar opportunities to challenge him to go fast and hard as my “teammate.”
Off the bike, I have been creating ritual time with him by periodically watching a neat video that showcases the Youth and Junior National Championships slated for West Chester, Ohio, August 3, 2104. He continues to tell me that he wants to go and compete against the “best seven-year-olds in the nation.” Watching this video stimulates his desire to train, an important benefit since we have yet to find a steady, serious training buddy for him.
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