Last Friday I found myself assisting a 14 year-old boy who was in the shop with his parents. They had "just stopped in" to have their son test ride a road bike. Unknown to the young man, the parents had special ordered and already bought the bike (Specialized Allez Sport), and were surprising their son with the gift. Seems he has been riding a lot and struggling up many hills with his dad's old cruiser. When he was awarded an academic and community achievement award, the parents decided to give him a reward as well, and were getting him the bike that day.
You should have seen this kid's face when he realized the bike was already his... he beamed from ear to ear, and not knowing how to express his happiness, cast his gaze the the ground and just slowly shook his head and smiled.
His parents were eager to get him all outfitted with shorts, jersey, shoes, helmet, etc. As he was trying on his gear in the dressing room, the mother said she had been speaking to the shop owner (Dave), when they had ordered the bike, and had asked him about a cycling coach for Taylor. I replied that I didn't know who Dave had in mind, but that this was an excellent idea, and I strongly recommended coaching. She responded that Dave had mentioned that I would be a good coach.
Oh! Me? Well, sure, I've coached people before, and I'd be happy to help her son.
As the young man was hoping to go on the group ride the following morning (!), the only time for coaching would be to meet him before the ride at 7am, coach him for an hour, and see if he is ready. I suggest this to the parents, and we agree to meet the following morning at the shop.
With the father and son at the front of the shop, the mom comes to the back where I am, and asks me to be sure to talk to Taylor about road safety, as she had a cyclist friend who was killed when a person in a parked car opened a door suddenly and the cyclist struck the door. My jaw drops. Here is this mother whose friend is killed whilst cycling, through little to no fault of his own, and even so, she's willing to allow her young son to put himself in the same "danger" because she values living deeply over living "safely". She wants me to mention these things because "a mother can only tell you so much," and that instruction coming from a coach often "has more value." Wow. My respect for these parents grows by the moment.
The next morning we met at the shop bright and early. I had spoken to Taylor the day before about nutrition and what he would need to get through a 2 to 3-hour ride. I bring a sampler bag of different flavored energy gels so that he can try some. Our first coaching drill is getting in and out of clips, then simulated traffic signs, and hand signals. He masters these in no time at all. We progress to riding in traffic, ascending hills, and shifting drills. Thankfully there is little traffic at that hour, so we are able to ease into the idea of sharing the road. I notice he tends to drift into the middle of the lane when turning, rather than staying closer to the curb or in the bike lane, so I make a point of keeping him on my right and and emphasizing that cars will not be courteous or mindful of cyclists.
It's now 8:10, and we head back to the shop. Feeling he's ready for the group ride, I give him the green light to go, but tell him I won't be coming since I have to work. He's disappointed, but he's confident enough that going alone (even as the only teenager in the group) is not such an overwhelming thing. He's the kind of kid you wish you could instruct every day. I remind him that he has a cell phone and tell him to call me or his dad if he has any trouble.
At 8:30, as the 100 or so cyclists in the parking lot begin to break into their various ride groups, Dave (my boss) tells me that they should be OK at the shop, and that I may go on the ride if I want to. Yes! I quickly grab another water bottle, slap on the sunscreen, and ride out to join the "C-" group where Taylor is. He and another girl who just bought her bike a couple days ago both express their relief that I'll be coming. I had just coached Kim in the fundamentals of riding in clips, and she says she feels better knowing that I'll be there if she has any questions. With the two of them excited that I'm coming, I now feel like a total rock star, and marvel that I get paid to do these kinds of things.
We take off on the ride, and every so often I find myself telling one or the other of them, "We're stopping for this light; clip out now and just rest your feet on the pedals," so they can begin to be mindful of when to clip out, or "We ride on the white lines a lot, but if it's raining or wet out, the paint on the road gets really slick," or any number of things a newbie might not know. When I ride behind Kim and notice that she's working too hard, I say, "Click the small black lever on the right twice." She does this and immediately responds with, "Oh wow! That's so much better! What did I just do?" After taking a closer look at the other riders, I see that a number of these beginner riders are not shifting very efficiently. I ask the ride leader if she wouldn't mind if I conduct a brief shifting clinic at the cafe at the 1/2-way point. The response is tremendous, and the riders are remarkably gracious and appreciative.
For Taylor and Kim, the whole tone of the ride went from "an intimidating first group ride" to "an encouraging and triumphant first group ride," as it should be. Both of them totally killed it on the climbs, and should probably move up to a faster group on their next ride. They returned to the shop full of energy and excited to be a part of the cycling community. They remind me of the day I first felt like a "real cyclist." I remember the ride, the route, the crispness in the New Jersey autumn air, and feeling like I even looked like I belonged on a bicycle. Their excitement and great experience totally made my day. And I'm still feeling it a week later.
Sometimes I ask myself why I work in a bike shop when I could make a lot more money some other place... It's days like this that answer that question. Although it's not without its headaches, all told, I love my job.
Just thought I'd share the warm fuzzies with my online bike peeps.
-sunny
You should have seen this kid's face when he realized the bike was already his... he beamed from ear to ear, and not knowing how to express his happiness, cast his gaze the the ground and just slowly shook his head and smiled.
His parents were eager to get him all outfitted with shorts, jersey, shoes, helmet, etc. As he was trying on his gear in the dressing room, the mother said she had been speaking to the shop owner (Dave), when they had ordered the bike, and had asked him about a cycling coach for Taylor. I replied that I didn't know who Dave had in mind, but that this was an excellent idea, and I strongly recommended coaching. She responded that Dave had mentioned that I would be a good coach.
Oh! Me? Well, sure, I've coached people before, and I'd be happy to help her son.
As the young man was hoping to go on the group ride the following morning (!), the only time for coaching would be to meet him before the ride at 7am, coach him for an hour, and see if he is ready. I suggest this to the parents, and we agree to meet the following morning at the shop.
With the father and son at the front of the shop, the mom comes to the back where I am, and asks me to be sure to talk to Taylor about road safety, as she had a cyclist friend who was killed when a person in a parked car opened a door suddenly and the cyclist struck the door. My jaw drops. Here is this mother whose friend is killed whilst cycling, through little to no fault of his own, and even so, she's willing to allow her young son to put himself in the same "danger" because she values living deeply over living "safely". She wants me to mention these things because "a mother can only tell you so much," and that instruction coming from a coach often "has more value." Wow. My respect for these parents grows by the moment.
The next morning we met at the shop bright and early. I had spoken to Taylor the day before about nutrition and what he would need to get through a 2 to 3-hour ride. I bring a sampler bag of different flavored energy gels so that he can try some. Our first coaching drill is getting in and out of clips, then simulated traffic signs, and hand signals. He masters these in no time at all. We progress to riding in traffic, ascending hills, and shifting drills. Thankfully there is little traffic at that hour, so we are able to ease into the idea of sharing the road. I notice he tends to drift into the middle of the lane when turning, rather than staying closer to the curb or in the bike lane, so I make a point of keeping him on my right and and emphasizing that cars will not be courteous or mindful of cyclists.
It's now 8:10, and we head back to the shop. Feeling he's ready for the group ride, I give him the green light to go, but tell him I won't be coming since I have to work. He's disappointed, but he's confident enough that going alone (even as the only teenager in the group) is not such an overwhelming thing. He's the kind of kid you wish you could instruct every day. I remind him that he has a cell phone and tell him to call me or his dad if he has any trouble.
At 8:30, as the 100 or so cyclists in the parking lot begin to break into their various ride groups, Dave (my boss) tells me that they should be OK at the shop, and that I may go on the ride if I want to. Yes! I quickly grab another water bottle, slap on the sunscreen, and ride out to join the "C-" group where Taylor is. He and another girl who just bought her bike a couple days ago both express their relief that I'll be coming. I had just coached Kim in the fundamentals of riding in clips, and she says she feels better knowing that I'll be there if she has any questions. With the two of them excited that I'm coming, I now feel like a total rock star, and marvel that I get paid to do these kinds of things.
We take off on the ride, and every so often I find myself telling one or the other of them, "We're stopping for this light; clip out now and just rest your feet on the pedals," so they can begin to be mindful of when to clip out, or "We ride on the white lines a lot, but if it's raining or wet out, the paint on the road gets really slick," or any number of things a newbie might not know. When I ride behind Kim and notice that she's working too hard, I say, "Click the small black lever on the right twice." She does this and immediately responds with, "Oh wow! That's so much better! What did I just do?" After taking a closer look at the other riders, I see that a number of these beginner riders are not shifting very efficiently. I ask the ride leader if she wouldn't mind if I conduct a brief shifting clinic at the cafe at the 1/2-way point. The response is tremendous, and the riders are remarkably gracious and appreciative.
For Taylor and Kim, the whole tone of the ride went from "an intimidating first group ride" to "an encouraging and triumphant first group ride," as it should be. Both of them totally killed it on the climbs, and should probably move up to a faster group on their next ride. They returned to the shop full of energy and excited to be a part of the cycling community. They remind me of the day I first felt like a "real cyclist." I remember the ride, the route, the crispness in the New Jersey autumn air, and feeling like I even looked like I belonged on a bicycle. Their excitement and great experience totally made my day. And I'm still feeling it a week later.
Sometimes I ask myself why I work in a bike shop when I could make a lot more money some other place... It's days like this that answer that question. Although it's not without its headaches, all told, I love my job.
Just thought I'd share the warm fuzzies with my online bike peeps.
-sunny
