When I hit the age of fifty, I wanted to start doing an outdoor sport; first mistake. I bought a bike, one of those bikes that doesn't have a motor; second mistake.
I went and purchased a big yellow mountain bike from Canadian tire, I was pumped(pun). It had big fat tires; just like my shape. It felt solid and I was ready to get going on this thing. However before, I could go anywhere, I needed a lesson on the three gears, that was a head spinner in itself.
I pushed my bike to a schoolyard which had a slightly slanted driveway to the street. Perfect!
I got up my nerve and jumped on my bike. I knew where my brakes were so what more did I need. My foot hit the pedal and I started to move forward that's when I began to panic. I felt like I was about to ride off of Mt. Everest.
My fear from my Mother hit me hard and I jumped off my bike. All I could hear in my ear besides my heart hammering was this voice saying "this isn't safe, you could really hurt yourself, you might even die, or worse yet, you might hit a kid and kill them, so get off that silly bike and get home".
Thank God for all my self-help books I had read over the years because I knew exactly what to do when Fear hit. Get back on that bike and ride.
Back on the bike I got with confidence and pride, then I slowly began to pedal, then stop, then pedal, then stop. This seemed to go on forever until I made it to the street. My spouse watched as I climbed off my bike and pushed it home. He has the patience of Job, who's a Bible character.
In 2008 I did a bike relay and finished my leg. Okay, my bike team was last in the race but my mothers fear didn't win this time.