When I was nine, I ruled a vast domain. Our subdivision was marked out by the convenience store on the corner at one end, and the ravine of the Sheep River on the other. Within a five minute bike ride was everything a young boy needed- swampland, construction sites, and long, straight stretches of asphalt. My friends and I played Cops and Robbers, Cowboys and Indians, traded stickers and caused as much general mayhem as we thought we could get away with.
One of my most vivid memories of those days took place in an empty dirt lot- the kind of place every boy knows is great for showing off bicycle skills. I was riding past on my bright blue BMX, and saw a couple older kids hanging out there. They called me over, arms draped over their handlebars and mischievous grins on their faces. I was suspicious, but mostly honored that they would notice a little kid like me.
When they pointed out the dirt pile that they had been using for a jump, my eyes must’ve got bigger; they laughed and made fun of my size, guessing (correctly) that I had never attempted the same stunt. Well, I puffed out my chest and decided right then and there that it was time for me to join the ranks of the big boys.
I backed up, fully intending to make a run at it. In hindsight I should have thrown all my strength into my pedals, and caution to the wind. Instead I must have approached the drop off with trepidation, because I had just enough speed to dribble my front tire over the edge. And stop.
I wasn’t planning to dismount, per se, but my inertia was sufficient to launch my butt off of the seat and onto the rigidly constructed frame of my bike. Before this incident, I was unaware that increasing the vertical plane of one tire directly affects the ability of a person’s toes to touch the ground. Come to think of it, maybe this event is what spawned my interest in mathematics and physics, as well as my aversion to biology.
For a split second I hung there, time and toes painfully suspended, and then my bike continued its downward descent. Like the big boys, I too was now draped over my handlebars, the tops of my sneakers leaving scuff marks in the dirt as my legs dragged limply behind me.
For the longest time I thought that the problem with this whole fiasco was the inadequate length of my inseam. I know better now; the real issue was an insufficient dose of humility. The Bible says, “…Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment…” (Romans 12:3 NIV)
Guess what? You can’t do everything. And that’s okay.
Sometimes saying “No” is the only thing keeping us from a long, pigeon-toed walk home.
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