Today I rode my brand new bike to Baby Hulk’s preschool. Since I started school I haven’t been exercising much. Every once in a while I’d pop an exercise video, like Insanity or P90X or run/walk to the school. But the videos became boring. Baby Hulk insisted on getting out of the stroller to pick every. Single. Dandelion along the way. A 20 minute walk became a two hour event, especially because the most awesome park in our town is right on the way home from from the preschool. When the weather turned nice, I wanted to ride my bike. Put Hulk in one of those cute baby seats I’d seen in Argentina growing up, or more recently, in Amsterdam, where everyone rides their bike. But the seat I got didn’t fit my bike, so I convinced Jeff that if he got me an awesome bucket bike, or Madsen bike, I’d ride it every day (it was his fault for telling me to follow them on Instagram).

He’s like, “Thank you, angels!!! We made it alive!”

He did get it for me as an early mother’s day, and I was thrilled, because–hello!–isn’t it gorgeous? On my trial ride I did okay. When my Princess Peach wanted to hop on (there is room for 4! people), I just couldn’t take the curve, and fell. From then on, we all decided I’d only take Baby Hulk until I became more comfortable with the bike. After much hesitation, Baby Hulk agreed to get back on the bike (Do Not Fall, MOM!), and today is Friday, so here are some of my thoughts as I climbed the hillS up to my house.

  1. The hardest thing is to start. I know I’ll have to face The Climb at the end, and I dread it so very much.
  2. BUT: Riding a bike is one of my favorite things ever. When I first jump on it and we ride down the hill? WEEEEEEEEeeeeeee! What a thrill! It feels so wonderful! The wind on my face. My legs hardly pumping because we’re going downhill. Before I know it, we’re there at the preschool, and we have to wait a few minutes before going in because we’re so early.
  3. An easy downhill hill gives you a push for when you have to start climbing. Sometimes I have wonderful writing days, and I take advantage of them and write all the words because I know I’ll reach a point where I’ll need the extra cushioning of being ahead in the game. 
  4. Even when it’s hard, do not stop! You’ll fall. It’s okay to go slowly. But don’t stop! Unless you get off the bike first. Sometimes it’s not the best idea to first draft, write two critical essays, and write a brand new especial free lance project. Sometimes I have to get off the bike of one of my many mom-roles or I’ll fall and hurt myself badly. I have fallen, hard, and I don’t recommend it.
  5. Learn how to fall to minimize damage. Sometimes a project is non-viable. Put it away. Return to it later or use it as a learning experience. There are no wasted workouts!
  6. Wear a helmet. In writing, more than a helmet you need an armor, especially to protect your heart. I’ve let myself be excessively aware of my shortcomings as a writer and given more importance to other people’s critiques than I should have. It’s okay to take criticism. It’s vital! Just don’t let it hit you so hard that you can’t write any more.
  7. Look around you and enjoy the scenery. Writing is how I analyze life, how I cope with things, how I think. But life is beautiful and without life, there wouldn’t be anything worth writing about.
  8. Change gears accordingly. It can’t be NaNo speed every month of the year. Sometimes I write tons of short stories and poems, other times I write a whole novel in 12 days. Sometimes I don’t write at all.
  9. You never forget how to ride a bike. But once you get on a bike after a long time, you might be a little rusty. Be gentle with yourself! Whenever I’ve taken a break from writing, it takes me a while to get back on a rhythm (I don’t take writing breaks often though. Sometimes it’s just a day or two, but I don’t even stop writing for long periods of time or I’d go even crazier).
  10. Don’t pay attention to the cars–or oh my gosh!–the bikes that will pass you as if you’re just walking. Don’t try to beat anyone else but the rider you were yesterday or the year before.
Riding a bike is different for everyone. My ballerina daughter took off on her bike after her dad removed the training wheels like she’d been riding a two-wheeler forever. She has perfect balance and a core that makes me so, so jealous and proud at the same time! I, on the other hand, never had training wheels. I fell so many times when I was learning that I still have scars on my knees. Granted, I learned how to ride on a bike way to big for me, and I didn’t have my own until my husband gave me one for Christmas a few years ago. Sometimes if you don’t use the right tools or have a good teacher, learning can be painful. But guess what? I still learned how, and I totally love it. And that feeling when you want to quit, but then you look up and see your house Right. There. And your two little dogs bark in encouragement, and you park the bike, and in wobbly knees you walk in the house to finally start writing? That’s the best feeling ever.  

Filed: Bike, writing

2 responses to “How Writing Is Like Riding A Bike–Kinda”

  1. Taffy says:

    So writing is like riding a bike! The easy hill for me is pantsing a 50K story. But the hard, uphill part is editing that beast!

  2. Options for additional sorts of bikes.

    If your bike has rear suspension could be a disk-break bike, the opposite styles of baby bike seat simply are not offered. you will find that with this sort, you'll simply mount a seat and begin riding.

    More space within the back.

    When you place your baby within the front seat, you will find that you just will simply mount some baskets within the back. this can assist you integrate your bike into daily chores, like running right down to the grocery, or grabbing some necessities from the pharmacy. suppose all the places that you just will ride to and the way a lot of fun it'll be to induce to them while not counting on a car!

Yamile Saied Mendez

Yamile (sha-MEE-lay) Saied Méndez is a fútbol-obsessed Argentine-American, Picture Book, Middle Grade, and Young Adult author.

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