15 Knope
My daughter and I participated in a local cycling event for charity today. Participants could choose from multiple distances ranging from 15K to 100 miles. We chose the short, family-friendly one. Last year, we finished the event but she complained relentlessly the whole time because her bike didn't have gears. She couldn't adjust the resistance on hills and such.
I fixed this issue by buying her a brand new bicycle for Christmas. The new bike has 18 speeds. That's about 17 more than she had before. I figured we'd be all set for this year's bike tour. I warned her to practice ahead of time since the gear-shifting bit was new to her.
This morning, I hauled her out of bed at 6:30 so that we could be out of the house at 7:30. I loaded the bikes onto my bike rack and we drove to the starting point for the bike tour. As we prepared to set off, everything seemed fine. We applied sunblock and checked in with the organizers. We mounted our bikes and started the route. The event features staggered start times so that there aren't hundreds of bikes crowding the streets all at once. We pedaled out of the parking lot and turned the corner.
That's right about when the complaining started. "Mom, wait." I pulled over every few yards to wait for her, even though I wasn't going very fast at all. I could hear the incessant clicking as she changed gears over and over.
"Just find one that works and stick with it," I advised. I added: "Didn't you practice like I suggested?"
"No, because it's been raining so much." I could still hear the whining on top of the clicking of the gear shift.
That's when I started to go from annoyed to borderline furious.
"Really? It has rained every single day between Christmas and now?" Last time I checked, we don't live in the rainforest. If we had received the amount of rainfall she seemed to be describing, our bikes would have rusted in place months ago. And for the record, yesterday was the quintessential perfect summer day and the sun didn't go down until after 8:30. It would have been, you know, the perfect night to ride a bike.
This went on for several miles. Whine, click, grind. I tried to keep riding and assumed she'd figure it out and stop complaining. "This is too hard!" she would wail.
Meanwhile, grandmothers and children of all ages were blowing past us. "Good morning!" each one would call out cheerfully. It wasn't a race but still, this was getting a bit ridiculous. An aid van stopped to ask if we were okay.
I did try to give her some suggestions. The trouble is that this is something that only the rider can really "feel." I tried to explain that it shouldn't be overly hard or overly easy to pedal. She should feel a little resistance but not so much that she couldn't pedal. I tried to show her how my gears were set. Nothing was working.
We made it to the rest stop at the five-mile mark. She wanted her dad to come and get her. I called him and told him where she was. She plopped down in the grass with a cup of Gatorade and a chunk of bagel. I don't know if this makes me a terrible mother but yes, I got back on my bike and kept riding. And you know what? It was pretty awesome. It was a perfect morning - cool but not overly so. A breeze but no wind.
I crossed the finish line and then sat down to eat an orange, wondering just exactly how bad my hair looked after I pulled off my helmet. I felt less annoyed by then.
Needless to say, I will be doing the event alone next summer. I'm annoyed with myself for losing patience with my daughter. I'm also annoyed with how easily she gave up. Is this a side effect of the "everyone gets a trophy" generation? I was not at all surprised at her lack of preparedness for this event, but I was surprised at how unwilling she was just to power through it and get to the finish line. Part of me wonders if this is my bad parenting at work. Have I not said "no" often enough or something?
When I got home (her dad did pick her up and bring her and her bike home), I was met with a teary-eyed middle schooler who apologized for ruining what should have been a fun event. I accepted her apology but yeah, I'm still doing it solo next year.
I fixed this issue by buying her a brand new bicycle for Christmas. The new bike has 18 speeds. That's about 17 more than she had before. I figured we'd be all set for this year's bike tour. I warned her to practice ahead of time since the gear-shifting bit was new to her.
This morning, I hauled her out of bed at 6:30 so that we could be out of the house at 7:30. I loaded the bikes onto my bike rack and we drove to the starting point for the bike tour. As we prepared to set off, everything seemed fine. We applied sunblock and checked in with the organizers. We mounted our bikes and started the route. The event features staggered start times so that there aren't hundreds of bikes crowding the streets all at once. We pedaled out of the parking lot and turned the corner.
That's right about when the complaining started. "Mom, wait." I pulled over every few yards to wait for her, even though I wasn't going very fast at all. I could hear the incessant clicking as she changed gears over and over.
"Just find one that works and stick with it," I advised. I added: "Didn't you practice like I suggested?"
"No, because it's been raining so much." I could still hear the whining on top of the clicking of the gear shift.
That's when I started to go from annoyed to borderline furious.
"Really? It has rained every single day between Christmas and now?" Last time I checked, we don't live in the rainforest. If we had received the amount of rainfall she seemed to be describing, our bikes would have rusted in place months ago. And for the record, yesterday was the quintessential perfect summer day and the sun didn't go down until after 8:30. It would have been, you know, the perfect night to ride a bike.
This went on for several miles. Whine, click, grind. I tried to keep riding and assumed she'd figure it out and stop complaining. "This is too hard!" she would wail.
Meanwhile, grandmothers and children of all ages were blowing past us. "Good morning!" each one would call out cheerfully. It wasn't a race but still, this was getting a bit ridiculous. An aid van stopped to ask if we were okay.
I did try to give her some suggestions. The trouble is that this is something that only the rider can really "feel." I tried to explain that it shouldn't be overly hard or overly easy to pedal. She should feel a little resistance but not so much that she couldn't pedal. I tried to show her how my gears were set. Nothing was working.
We made it to the rest stop at the five-mile mark. She wanted her dad to come and get her. I called him and told him where she was. She plopped down in the grass with a cup of Gatorade and a chunk of bagel. I don't know if this makes me a terrible mother but yes, I got back on my bike and kept riding. And you know what? It was pretty awesome. It was a perfect morning - cool but not overly so. A breeze but no wind.
I crossed the finish line and then sat down to eat an orange, wondering just exactly how bad my hair looked after I pulled off my helmet. I felt less annoyed by then.
Needless to say, I will be doing the event alone next summer. I'm annoyed with myself for losing patience with my daughter. I'm also annoyed with how easily she gave up. Is this a side effect of the "everyone gets a trophy" generation? I was not at all surprised at her lack of preparedness for this event, but I was surprised at how unwilling she was just to power through it and get to the finish line. Part of me wonders if this is my bad parenting at work. Have I not said "no" often enough or something?
When I got home (her dad did pick her up and bring her and her bike home), I was met with a teary-eyed middle schooler who apologized for ruining what should have been a fun event. I accepted her apology but yeah, I'm still doing it solo next year.
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| This photo was taken before everything went to shit. |
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