Many years ago, my 2nd grade daughter, was eager to learn to ride a bike.  She was very independent and wanted to do it herself.  In the beginning, she was able to ride a few feet, and then, when she thought she might tip over, would veer off of the sidewalk into the grass and deliberately fall sideways.  It was her way of stopping.

She seemed to be perfectly fine with her own way of bike-riding.  We decided that she needed to have some guidance as this was not going to serve her very well as she got older.  And so the process of teaching her began.

My husband did what most parents do when teaching their children to ride a bike.  He ran next to her as she took off down the street, catching her before she went off the sidewalk into the grass.  It was hard work.  My husband was not crazy about running as exercise.  But of course he wanted to do this with his little girl.

So, day after day, they would practice up and down the block.  Finally it was decided that she and he would venture out of the neighborhood, to a nearby park.  This was really a good idea because the park had very wide sidewalks, more than twice the width of the ones in our neighborhood.

So off to the park we all went.  I walked behind them with my young son as she and her dad took off toward the park.  When we arrived, they were already moving at a faster pace as she zigzagged her way down the sidewalk.  

The pavement circled a building on the park property that had a recreation room and restrooms inside.  My husband and daughter were going around the building and she was riding in her usual way, veering off in different directions.

As she was making a second trip around the building, I was watching them in the distance.  She careened around the corner heading straight for the wall of the building.  I gasped, but just in the nick of time, huffing and puffing, my husband was able to catch up to her before she hit the brick wall.  Needless to say, he saved her from a disastrous accident.

As I was viewing all this, still a ways off, I overheard a couple walking several yards away from my son and me.  The woman said, “Look honey, the jogger just saved the little girl!”

It was hard to keep myself from laughing out loud at the thought of my husband being a jogger who just happened to be running by as she was ready to run into a brick building.  Her brother and I  caught up with the two of them and we made our way home together, walking the bike, of course.  They’d had enough practice for one day.

After we got home, I told my husband what the couple had said.  We looked at each other and laughed so hard at the thought of him being the heroic jogger.  Memories like this are part of the ties that bind.  They are the chapters of our lives that we keep in our hearts and minds.  And the ones like this story are put in the humor section of our family’s history book.