From Training Wheels to…


I’m not sure how old I was when I first hopped on a bicycle. Pretty young, I’m sure.

I remember a tricycle. I remember a metal tractor that had pedals. And I remember my first bicycle. It had training wheels.

Up and down the sidewalk in front of our house I would go, tipping to one side then the other, training wheels keeping me from falling, most of the time.

Dad took the training wheels off one day.

Oh boy! I climbed up on the seat, a little tippy as I remember. Dad held onto the seat to keep me upright and walked, then ran behind me, as I gained momentum. Dad was my training wheels, so to speak.

Without me knowing it one time, he let go of the seat, still running alongside. He thought I was ready, I guess. I noticed he wasn’t holding on and got scared and was about the fall, but he grabbed the seat again.

Before long, I didn’t need training wheels or dad holding on.

Surely, each of us has an experience like this, moving from being unable to “I’ve got this.”


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