I have always loved riding bikes, ever since my first memories of being in the “baby seat” behind Dad on his ole green reliable.

I remember my first little bike. It was so cute and small and just my size. (Does that mean I was cute when I was oh so small??) I got on and promptly fell over, thinking everything was going to stay upright with… some… magic…?? Ha ha, yes, just tipped right over in slow motion since I wasn’t moving anything. I am laughing, thinking about that. Anyway, when I got back up and was directed to just keep pedaling, I pedaled like ninety and took off down the street. I think I was 3 or 4…?

Even though I have always loved bicycling, I have had various fears along the way. My first fear was taking my hand off the handlebars in order to signal. I actually thought that by keeping my grip on the handlebar and pointing my index finger to the right or left, my signalling was going to be effective. What a ridiculous notion! (certainly not my last). The other fear I know I had for a long time, and I think an element of it still remains, is jumping a bike onto a curb. I think the logical part of my brain cannot comprehend how that will work. Will everything be okay? Or, will I can myself or fall over or…! Some things never change. Is that what they call childhood conditioning?

As the fifth child, I rarely had anything brand new. I got my very first brand new ten speed (or was it twelve, even…??) in and around Grade 9 or 10. I remember it was this enchanting soft red colour and had a beautiful design. It rode like a dream and I loved it! I used to get up at 5am every morning and bike for an hour on the trail in Regina from our end of the city to the other end of the bike path and back. That bike got stolen, then the used bike after that was stolen out of our backyard two weeks later… took a long time for me to get another bike. I finally bought myself a mountain bike in my early 20’s and loved it! That bike was also stolen out of my backyard. Is it any wonder that I have a phobia of my bike getting stolen?

I grew to prefer exercising as part of my work or as an activity, as opposed to committing to a home routine. I especially loved riding my bike to theatre rehearsals. In Edmonton, it was about a one hour ride from the north end, through the valley past downtown, and up the other side. In Estevan, it was a shorter ride but still the hills. Damn, I was in great shape. Unfortunately, I really did a number on my neck as a result of the posture I had while riding. My latest bike keeps my body upright, which I love, BUT, I think it looks like I should be riding it in a circus ring haha. All good since I am finally at an age where people’s opinion of how I look matters less… mostly…

All this biking over the years lead to having very strong quadricep muscles, which leads me to a story about gym class in Grade 10… BG (background) INFO: I was not a very coordinated child. I only started to get coordinated once I reached high school, and even then it took a bit. As a result, I was never viewed by any coaches as a ‘sports-type’, although I really excelled at softball and eventually became an excellent dancer. So, in Grade 10, when Mr. O’Donnell made us all line up against the wall in gym class in a sitting position (do you know this exercise?), I surprised the heck out of him by being the LAST ONE against the wall. I think I sat there for about 35 or 40 minutes. He remarked that he had never seen anyone last that long. That felt good, considering I had never been known for anything coordinated, athletic, or impressively muscular. Aah, I wish I had been more confident with my kick ass ass and legs way back then. The things we think then and now, hey?

I played on the school basketball team in Grade 8, probably because we had a hoop attached above the garage. When I tried out for volleyball in Grade 6, the perfect bump came to me and I caught the ball. Mr. Runge, the coach, looked at me, pointed, told me to hit the showers. That was my brief stint trying out for volleyball. In hindsight, too bad he didn’t TEACH me how to play instead of just giving up on me right away. Oh well, like I said, I was not very coordinated anyway. He was probably relieved that getting rid of me was so easy and all of my own doing.

The one sport I excelled at was softball, mostly due to the fact that my father Eugene was an awesome athlete, primarily in hockey and ball. Dad spent a lot of time teaching his children various sports. He also coached my team every year of community ball. It was tough being coached by him, as he was very hard on me, but I became a good player (Albeit not the best attitude).

As part of his training toolbag, Dad had this large metal pail of softballs that he would bring out for every person or team that he coached. He would pitch through for batting practice, or throwing grounders or hit fly balls. He was a very thorough and excellent trainer. Dad was also an awesome pitcher, so I became an awesome catcher. I admit that I was not catching properly for years, allowing the fast, hard pitch to land square in my palm instead of in the netting. (I remember a newspaper clipping of my Dad pitching 13 innings of pure strike-outs). I also remember a time when I became scared of the ball… not sure why, maybe a bad experience with one in the chin?

It turned out that I also was a fairly good pitcher. I used to be switched between catcher and pitcher for most games. When I look back on that now, I don’t think it ever sunk into my mind that I was an athlete. I never did master the windmill pitch. In high school, I would catch for Denise Robinson while she practiced perfecting the windmill pitch. That girl gave herself huge bruises on her thigh as the ball passed 40, 50, 60 times in clockwork progression. She wanted to make sure that she was lining it up exactly and properly. Wow.

I don’t think I ever realized what commitment to being excellent in a sport really looked like. I mean, I would practice like anyone else, but I have never been a very competitive or aggressively ambitious person. If I had been, I am sure that my life would have been verrry different. I like who I became, but I have often wondered why I was not more ambitious. Perhaps it was because I have been blessed with many gifts and talents, and a lot of things just came easy for me. It is too bad, in a way, because I think that is why I was not more driven. I enjoyed a myriad of activities and artistic endeavours, but once I did something and felt like I had succeeded, I moved on to the next thing. That must be why I played piano songs so quickly… learned it and moved on to the next one. Unfortunately, I never slowed down often enough to fix all of my mistakes, and some of them still remain to this day. Let that be a lesson to you young folk: do it right the first time.

Thank you for sharing time. I am pretty sure that is all I have to say about Bikes…. haha for now…

Love,

Dawn