Our 12-year-old son made a surprising statement last Sunday.
“I’m going to be an Olympic bicycle racer,” he announced as we drove home from Walmart.
“You are?” I said. “That’s a bold statement.”
“Just write it down,” he said confidently, looking at the clock on the dash. “At 2:32 p.m. on Aug, 11, 2019, I said I was going to be in the Olympics.”
“I won’t forget,” I said. “But you probably will.”
He folded his arms and half-frowned, half-smiled.
“Just kidding,” I said. “You can do anything you want to do, but you have to focus.”
It occurred to me that he would sooner win an Academy Award for drama than an Olympics medal, but I bit my tongue.
A couple of weeks ago, he decided to spend his summer savings for a good bicycle. Like most other 12-year-olds, he has always had serviceable Santa bikes that lasted just about as long as it took to outgrow them, maybe two years.
Mark KennedyBut after a summer of mowing grass and pressure-washing patios and decks, he begged to spend his money on a road bike from a real bike shop.
Who was I to say no? After all, it was his hard-earned dough. Plus, he had proved his commitment all summer by insisting on riding his old bike right up until dusk every night. With his 13th birthday only a couple of months away, he was beginning to get teen wanderlust, constantly pressing the boundaries of where he could, and couldn’t, ride his bike.
So one day a couple of weeks ago, he and his mom paid a visit to East Ridge Bicycles, and he got fitted with an entry-level Giant road bike and a new helmet. After that, he bought a pair of plastic water bottles and was essentially broke.
Like most boy hobbies, becoming a “serious” biker meant a new gateway to gear. I recognized the pattern. It was much like when he had been smitten by fishing equipment the year before. His 17-year-old brother had gone through an AirSoft gun phase through his middle teens, and this bike infatuation seems to be following the same arc.
Almost immediately, our 12-year-old was scanning the internet for skin-tight bike shorts, flashing lights and other road-biking accoutrements.
“Is there anything I can do to make money?” he asked me one day.
“Still wanting those bike shorts?” I said.
“Yep,” he said, “but I don’t have the money yet.”
“Well, your aunt needs her yard mowed. Why don’t you ride your new bike over to her house and do that.”
So he climbed on his bike and pedaled over to his aunt’s house. I was able to follow him on a phone app that tracks his location and speed. I could tell when was going 5 miles per hour up a hill and 20 miles per hour down.
With the lawn-mowing money secured, we returned to the bike shop to try on shorts. We settled on kids medium, although immediately upon returning home he began having second thoughts. At issue were whether bike shorts needed to be merely skin tight or tourniquet tight.
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YouTube seemed to imply that bike shorts need to be tighter than an anaconda hug. And, as as you many know, anybody with a YouTube channel is automatically smarter than Mom or Dad.
We argued about the bike shorts all afternoon. He wanted to return the shorts and get size “small.” I wanted him to relax and wear the medium-size pair he bought. After all, a trip back to East Ridge would cripple my Sunday afternoon nap time.
Once his mom got home and seconded my opinion, he relented.
“I’ll guess I’ll just wear the ones I got,” he said.
If loose-fitting shorts ultimately keep him out of the Olympics, I guess I’m to blame. I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.
Actually, I do how I’ll live with myself. I’ll take a nap.
Contact Mark Kennedy at 423-757-6645 or mkennedy@timesfreepress.com.