With my move back to Salt Lake City, I have decided to rededicate myself to the city and all it has to offer. But with my SLC renaissance comes the desire to be a bicyclist, a cute skirt-wearing bicyclist on a tangerine cruiser with a basket filled with fresh-cut flowers and a baguette. (Yes, apparently I'm Audrey Hepburn in my imagination.) Only one problem. I don't know how to ride a bike.
Some of you may know of my secret shame, for the rest this might be a shocking revelation. I usually keep such a fact a secret since most people think it is totally weird (and very sad) for a 29 year old to not know how to ride a bike. But Kara, how did you never learn? I tried to learn a couple of times as a kid, but never got the hang of it. Then after a while, I just stopped trying. I even experimented with it once in college, but it didn't take. You'd be surprised how little this skill is required for a functioning adult in society, and how easily it can be avoided for decades.
So in order to be the cute bicyclist of my dreams, I enlisted the help of my sister Bri and brother-in-law Adam to help me learn to ride. Well, more like Adam insisted cause he thought I was bringing dishonor to the family name.
So as with any classic bike-riding lesson, we headed to an empty church parking lot. As you can see, I was a little nervous. But Adam put my mind to rest and said he would run behind me holding the bike and promised he wouldn't let me fall. Don't believe him?
You can tell I was really focused cause there are no pictures of me looking up when I was touching the bike. I was so in the zone.
After about five minutes of dragging Adam around the parking lot, Bri just told me to just try it on my own. So I took a deep breath and did just that.
Cue R. Kelley's "I believe I can fly..." The best thing about this pic is that you can see Bri and Adam's shadows, like proud parents looking on as their baby bird flies the nest. And with more and more practice eventually, I looked like this...
Thanks, Adam and Bri! Now when people say, "It's just like riding a bike..." I won't immediately think, "Oh, you mean like really, really hard."