A week back, I summoned my pride before me, caught it in a gunny bag, and shoved it under a boulder. I then walked into the sports store, smiled at the salesman and said a tad sheepishly "I need to learn to cycle". I'll bet it's not something he hears often from a 21 year old. I appreciate his courtesy and his almost successful attempt to suppress a smirk. "Take this one, madam. (Quite symbolically, especially in my case, the model he suggested was named "Shine") I guarantee you'll learn to cycle in a week. Don't worry". Good faith? Good salesmanship? Either which ways, his kindness had me signing away a good bundle of cash and years of self doubt.
Two hours with a person who's been fantastic enough to bear the weight of my diffidence one time too many, and I had succeeded. I was out there, master of my greatest nemesis - accomplishment colouring my soul, and cold wind in my face, only gender differentiated me from a Hillary conquering Everest or a Jake Sully totally owing Toruk (I so totally am in love with that movie!).
I didn't tell anyone. I enjoyed the secret. But, on talking to people afterward, I've realized that I'm not one-of-a-kind. A lot of people my age haven't pushed the pedal hard enough.
So if any of you are reading this, I'll stand testament to the fact that 'impossible' is impossible. I, like you, have two left feet, trip over myself and weild butter fingers; to begin with. I can't catch a ball either. Yet. But I can, if I want it bad enough. And you can too.
They say growing up is about finding balance. Well watchyaknow! They are absolutely right!
in just two hours?? thats fast.
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