This is a state park near us. We go to walk, to picnic, to lay about – actually that’s what I go for.
My family goes there to bike.
I think I’ve told you before. Haven’t I? It’s no biggie. Everyone has something. Some people can’t eat a peanut. Some can’t have dairy (the horror). Some are diabetic. I too have a debilitating challenge. I can’t ride a bike. Well, technically I may be able to actually ride a bike without killing myself, but I really really don’t want to.
My family tried to have an intervention a couple of years ago. They were horrified for me. My husband lived on his bike throughout his childhood. Both my kids adore their bikes. They gave me a long list of reasons why I’d love it. The freedom! The independence! So I finally caved in and they bought me a fancy bike. Took me out every night to practice. And I tried. I acted excited. I seemed enthused. It was awful.
I don’t like riding a bike. It makes me nervous. It makes me feel out of control. It gives me zero happiness. Freedom and independence are not for me. Sorry.
This causes great sadness in my family. I’m like a traitor among them. An alien. They’ll never be able to ride like a full family.
They’ll get over it.