I (sort of) stuck it out though. I found some flat streets and managed to make it about twenty minutes before I ran into some friends...
My niece and nephew were out riding bikes as well - they had a worse time of it. The four year old ran over the two year old's toes with her training wheels. The two year old toppled and the four year old tripped on uneven curb and scraped her hands, knees, everything. Her mom had a face that said "help me!"
We walked four haggard people and three bikes the two looong blocks home. We traded helmets for band aids and hugs, and we all agreed yet again that biking is not for the faint of heart.
here they count for you all 5 band aids,
as the reenact scenes from the great depression era
(and please don't judge me for getting out my camera
to document the very real-not posed-crocodile tears)
The thing is, at the start of my ride I was thinking maaybbe I don't want to do a sprint triathlon. Maybe it's too much for me. Then I was walking next to a sobbing, gasping four year old with a bleeding foot who was saying "I want to walk now but maybe I can ride my bike again tomorrow." (just look at that face, it'll break your heart). How can I not get back on the
horse bike and give it a try? I can't let a preschooler show me up.