My six year old legs pumped up and down and the bicycle swerved to the left, to the right and then found it’s course and straightened out. My father ran beside me encouraging: “Yes, that’s it, good, good girl!”


The stabilisers were gone. I was riding a bicycle. A two wheeler bicycle. By myself! 
“I’m riding!” I exalted.

The excitement proved too much. The bicycle wobbled uncontrollably and crashed to the ground. I picked myself up unscathed and turned to my Dad. 
“I did it, Dad, I did it! I can ride a bike properly now. I can ride my bike to the top of the street. I can…I can ride down to the Gnomes Wood.”


This was a wood, in England, where the gnomes ate all the bread that we put out for them in the afternoon. The next day, it was gone. Clearly carried away by the gnomes during the night. 
I could now ride myself with some bread to the Gnomes Wood.


I had been given the gift of wheels!

My childhood was spent on bikes. I remember when I was ten, I painted my beloved girl’s bike this wonderful, sickly orange. I thought it looked tremendously trendy. When I was in high school, I used to ride my bike the five kms to school and back home later after sport. A bike played a very vital and necessary part in my growing up.

Then I had my fall from the stage. 


About a year after my fall, I was at the DeVilliers farm. I watched Paul, their son, messing about with his bike.


“Could I please have a go?” I asked.


“Are you able to…?”

At my look he stopped and said: “I’ll hold while you get on.”


I mounted the bike and he held it as I began to pedal.
 “Let go, let go,” I shouted. He let go and that was when another perception of myself blew away like fine dust. This girl who had ridden a bike all her life was unable to balance. I came crashing down, grazing my knee and elbow.
 I wanted to cry. Here was something else that had been taken away from me.
 I was now unable to do what Dad had taught me at six – ride a bike.

Years passed and B entered my life.


About ten years ago, she cycled over to see me. We ate muffins, laughed and chatted. As she left, pushing her bike across our parking area, I suddenly stopped and said:


“Do you think I could have a ride on your bike?”


“Sure, why not?”


B had no knowledge of my fiasco on a bike all those years ago. I was nervous. I was actually terrified. Would I once more go crashing down? Sensing my nervousness, B held the bike while I mounted. I pushed the upraised pedal down and the bike moved forward. In my mind I heard my Dad’s voice: ‘Pedal, Gaynor, pedal!’ and I did. And wonder of wonders, I didn’t come crashing down as I had feared. Initially, the bike wobbled a bit, but then as I speeded up so it’s wobbles disappeared and I was riding once more. I rode to the top of our parking area, turned around and pedalled back to B. I pulled to a stop in front of her. I was grinning but my eyes were filled with tears.


“I did it, B, I didn’t think that I would be able to ride again,” I choked out, “but I did. I rode a bike once more.”

A couple of days later, B and I went cycling together. We went up Plantation Road which is a wide road, not populated by a lot of traffic. My main problem when riding, indeed the reason I am not allowed to drive a car, is because of my 40% eyesight and the fact that I have no peripheral vision. B rode in front of me and let me know when another car was coming. She signalled that she was turning and I happily sailed after her. We stopped at the side of the road. This was where my difficulty lay. In stopping! B and John’s bikes which we were riding had cross bars and I found it difficult to put both my legs on the ground at the same time. As a result, each time we stopped, the bike and I did a gentle topple over. Not the most elegant way to get off a bike! B had bought a blanket for us to sit on the grassy pavement and then she handed out a much needed bottle of fresh, cold water.

That wondrous discovery that I was able to ‘pedal, Gaynor, pedal’ remained with me.

Recently I spent time with B and her husband, John, in England. One morning I said to B:


“Please may I cycle with you in Sheringham Park? We need an extra bicycle. Is there anywhere we can hire one?” 


Nothing like being straightforward and to the point, is there?


Together we set off to a shop that hired bicycles. It was called Huff and Puff Cycles. There was an incredibly helpful man called Ross to whom I explained what I needed. A bicycle with no cross bar. A bicycle like my orange one that I’d had as a child! Ross provided me with exactly what I wanted. Excepting it was black not orange which, let’s face it, was not nearly as exciting to the eye!
B and I set off together for Sheringham Park. Before getting to the park we had about a two kilometres ride along the streets of Sheringham. I admit that I found that first bit of the ride terrifying. When I had ridden in South Africa, it was along big, wide streets. Now I was riding along curving, twisty lanes. I would hear a car approaching from behind and I knew I had to stick as close to the side of the road as possible. I couldn’t swerve too far out otherwise the car and I would collide. At one stage I actually found myself riding on the grass heading for a lamppost. I swerved onto the hellish road again. At last we reached Sheringham Park and inwardly I gave a sigh of relief. No more cars creeping up behind me. I now had the whole Park streaming invitingly before me.
Sheringham Park is beautiful. It was created by Humphry Repton in 1812. It is famous for it’s enormous collection of rhododendrons and azaleas. The last owner, Tom Upcher, would hold rhododendron champagne parties in the 1950’s to show off his stunning collection. Apparently ladies would arrive bedecked in their fine gowns and Wellington boots. They would then mosey down the main carriageway sipping champagne and gasping at the colours they were surrounded by. I had been there on a previous visit and was mind blown by the mass of rhododendrons, azalea, magnolia, tall, towering oak, maple and trees and bushes of which I cannot name. Suffice to say that they all combined to form acres of startling beauty.
At the very start of our ride in the Park, I discovered the beauty of gears. What a complete treat! I speeded up and shouted out to B:


“Faster, B, faster,” I didn’t want to have to slow down when we were going uphill. “These gears are great!” I laughed.


Then I noticed that there were people about. Couples strolling hand in hand, children playing tag or racing after a ball, families out for a stroll, and dogs!.


‘Glory, please don’t let me hit anyone’, I gave a silent prayer as I ‘pedal, Gaynor, pedal’ my way after B. We approached this couple and I heard B shout out: “Learner Rider!” The couple instantly stepped to the one side as we passed them. It wasn’t the ‘Learner Rider’ I was concerned about. It was this person with the mucked up eyesight that I feared.


‘Just go where B goes. Don’t take your eyes off her,’ I thought to myself.

It was a blissful day to be riding in such a beautiful park. I wanted to take my hands off the handle bars, as I had as a child, raise them into the air and shout: “Whoooooow!” in glory and delight!!! I contented myself with tightly clasped handlebars, madly pedalling legs and a breathless:

“whoooow…”


It didn’t matter how I said it. The joyful stimulation running through me was life enhancing!!!
When we finally got home I was totally exhausted. We had done ten kilometres of cycling. B was looking as fresh as a spring daisy, barely a hair out of place. What I hadn’t bargained on was how she would be feeling.


“Taking you to and from Sheringham Park was utterly hair raising for me. I should have let you go first. The thing was you didn’t know the way. I also thought that if I went first, I could see all the dangers that lay ahead.”


As B had done. She had warned me when cars were approaching, about bumps in the road, her arm went out when she was turning. She had been utterly fantastic on the road. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to warn me of cars coming from behind nor was she able to quell my rapidly beating heart and quivering hands.

And yet, for me, it was the most glorious experience. 
It was something I loved doing. I had an eighteen metre fall that should have put a stop to cycling. But I saw a means of recapturing that love, merely for a short while, but capturing it nonetheless. Through Dad and his “Pedal, Gaynor, pedal,” a bicycle, and my best friend, B, that dream came alive once more, wheeling me blissfully on my way.

Pedal, Gaynor, pedal!

The post Pedal, Gaynor, Pedal! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

“If constellations had been named in the 20th century,

I got into the pool and floated. The water felt deliciously cool. I rolled over and decided to swim a few lengths. After two, this swimming medalist at school, exhaustedly decided to stop and go back to floating. After my accident, I could run to the bottom of the farm driveway and pant my way back. I had to stop once or twice on the way. Or maybe it was four or five times. And I cycled once with B. It was totally exhilarating being on a bicycle once more. We rode for about 5 kilometres, then sat on the grass, drank our bottles of water and rode home downhill the entire blissful way.

Tegan Phillips also swims, runs and cycles.
Her swimming, running and cycling are on a totally different scale to mine. Recently she swam 40 km, ran 422 kms and cycled 1800 kms around the South Island of New Zealand. Her triathlon certainly outdid my ‘triathlonic’ activities.

On the 1st of November 2016 Tegan began her triathlon. She finished 25 days later on her 24th birthday. To do such a feat is incredible. You need to be fit, obviously, but there is more to it than that. You have to have a need for adventure. Tegan has this need bursting out of her.

“I’m very uncoordinated and was never good at Girl Scouts or navigating. I wasn’t athletic. I certainly didn’t seem to fit into the mould of what I had always imagined adventurers to be. But, for as long as I can remember, I have been totally unable to resist venturing into the unknown. When one does that, one has fun with all of the challenges that occur. I found myself saying ‘yes’ to almost every opportunity that came my way, no matter how crazy they sounded. I travelled in India as a clueless fourteen year old. I taught in the Maldives. I worked in a Hare Krishna castle in Belgium. To my unutterable delight, adventure after adventure have been presented to me.

I believe that adventure is an attitude to life,” she mused, “A trip to the doctor can be an adventure if you’re prepared to marvel at the things you might encounter and stay curious and imaginative. When you imagine that you’re experiencing everything for the first time and delight in the unexpected, you feel that adventure is truly everywhere.”

From a physical perspective, Tegan never doubted that she could do it. She had set her mind to it and that was that. However she often found herself thinking: “What on earth am I doing? This is a lot tougher than I expected! I can’t make it up this hill. I can’t go on.” Then she would say to herself: “Just one more step.” And when that was completed: “Okay, now another.”
That was how her long exhausted days were often completed.
Just-another-step!
I know that having that thought and then accomplishing the task, leads to unparalleled satisfaction. After my fall, being able to walk unaided down a passage bought me a feeling of unsurpassed pride and fulfilment. I know how Tegan felt when she crossed the finishing line!

I presumed that Tegan was ace at cycling, running and swimming. She laughed.
“I am a hopeless swimmer. I am very used to being overtaken by small children in swimming pools.
Including swimming, and so making my adventure a proper triathlon, was a deliberate decision on my part. I wanted to do something that didn’t come naturally to me. I wanted my limits to be stretched, expanded upon. I knew that I would be called upon to swim in a freezing cold and at times fairly rough sea. I would be out of my comfort zone.
I wanted to show people that being bad at something or scared of something is all the more reason to give it a go. Surprise yourself! When you do, you’ll feel like you can do anything.”

She also hoped to inspire people to get outdoors and connect with their environment. I couldn’t agree more. Instead of seeing children in a park playing football, or on the see-saw, swings and climbing frame, I see them huddled on benches texting on their cell-phones. My childhood was spent on a bike, in a gang, building forts. Thank the Lord, cell phones had not then been invented!

The bicycle plays a huge role in this world of ours.
People ride to work. I remember riding to school. Shooting down Homestead Avenue, the wind in my hair (riding helmets weren’t worn then!) and beating roses into my cheeks. My chest would feel ready to explode with exertion-able joy! Lycra suited bottoms pumping away in their exercising delight. The old man riding to fetch his paper every morning. Tegan on her triathlon.
All of these people on bicycles!

Apart from her lust for adventure, this was another reason for Tegan’s journey. To raise money to fund bicycles for school children in Africa through World Bicycle Relief.
As World Bicycle Relief says: “In developing countries where distance is a barrier to opportunity and livelihood, bicycles connect students to schools, patients to healthcare, and entrepreneurs to markets.”

Their goal over the next ten years is to provide millions of quality bicycles to individuals in developing countries. They believe mobility is the key to breaking open the cycle of poverty. With mobility, people are able to move forward. By providing bicycles, opportunities, independence and joy are given birth!

During her triathlon, when the going got incredibly tough, Tegan reminded herself about the children who would get ‘her’ bicycles. They had to push themselves physically every single time they wanted to get to school. Up to eight hours of walking per day. Her triathlon was a choice. They didn’t have a choice.
Tegan raised enough money to purchase 85 bicycles as a result of  her New Zealand adventure.

“We become stronger, more capable people when we push the boundaries of what we think we can achieve and, if we’re lucky, exceed them,” she said. ” By choosing this adventure, I was able to remind others that people can do things that they set their mind on. Also I was able to do it in a way that would help make a difference to people’s lives.”

What adventure is Tegan pursuing now? Is she is cantering around Morocco on a camel or sky diving from Mount Everest? No, although if someone offered her those opportunities, she would certainly be hard pressed to refuse! Tegan is not only an adventurer but an artist. During her triathlon, as a way of thanking people that made donations, Tegan drew them cartoons of anything they wished! And this is where her next adventure is directing her. She is going to lead a relatively ‘normal’ life and try and make a career as a cartoonist.

Danny Kaye said: “Life is a blank canvas, and you need to throw all the paint on it you can.”
I look forward to seeing what new ‘painting’ Tegan is about to create!

The post Surprise Yourself! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

I remember my bike distinctly. I had painted it this sickly pale pink and I was an “ace” rider! I remember pedalling behind my brother, my hands off the handle bars, my head back, whooping with joy.

I loved my bike.

About nine months after my accident, we were visiting the DeVilliers farm, and Paul, their son, was cavorting around on a bicycle.

“Can I have a ride?” I asked.

“On this?” he asked a trifle stupidly, I thought. The fact that I could barely walk, didn’t seem to cross my mind! “Uh…yeah,” he said,  “let’s go on the tennis court. There it will be far smoother.” He moved the bicycle to the court. “Here…I’ll hold it while you mount.” And, much against my will he did just that. He held me steady while I perched way, way up there on the saddle. Shoot, I didn’t remember the saddle being so far from the ground. I looked down. The ground seemed kilometres away! Well, several metres at least.

“Okay, let me go,” I said through gritted teeth. He did and I wobbled precariously, about to come off.

“I’ll just hang on until you get the feel of it,” holding me steady as I pedalled. After a few seconds I yelled: “Now let me go! Let me ride by myself.”

Resigned he did so. I would love to say that I then did several I laps of the tennis court before cruising to a halt. But things didn’t work out quite so smoothly. His hands left the bicycle and so did my balance. The bike went one way and I the other.  I didn’t hurt myself because Paul literally caught this tumbling “bicycle-rider”! The only thing that was hurt was my stubborn pride.

I realised that very possibly I had said goodbye to bicycles forever.

Years passed.

My friend, B, hopped on her bicycle and rode over to my apartment. We sat on the couch, drank tea and chatted. B eventually looked at her watch. “It’s getting late, I must go.” She picked up her rucksack and moved the bike back outside. I watched in silence. Then…      “Can I have a go? On your bike?”. “Sure. Put on some shorts and I’ll wait outside in the parking area.”

A few minutes later I joined B. I didn’t say anything about my “bicycle-ride” all those years ago. She sensed my tension but remained silent. Gently she maintained a hold till I was on the bike. Then took her hands away. I pedalled…and pedalled….and pedalled! I rode that beautiful bicycle of B’s all the way around our parking area! There were virtually no cars there so I was able to duck and dive around the poles of the various parkings.

I was back on a bike. I was riding!

A week later, B fitted a riding helmet on my head. This was new. I had never ridden with a riding helmet before. Then we wheeled our bikes to the gate.

“Because of your vision, you must ride directly behind me. I will look out and listen for cars and tell you. You must do whatever I say, alright?”

Then giving me a smile, she turned, pushed her bike and was off. With me following. We rode out of B ‘s little neck of the woods and turned onto Plantation Ave. It is a long stretch of a road that goes smoothly uphill. The bike had gears which I discovered made riding uphill a total joy. “Go faster,” I yelled and B duly speeded up. “Okay, we’re going to turn here,” she yelled turning right. We did so and rode on. I couldn’t believe it! It felt so right. So…spot on! A few moments later, B shouted: “A car’s coming!” The warning was unnecessary because I had heard the approaching motor before B. Wonderful things these Cochlear Implants! After about half an hour I yelled: “Can we stop? I need a break.” We coasted to a shady bit of lawn. B opened her rucksack, drew out a blanket which we sat on and then joy of all joys – two bottles of water.  I sat there, my face red and glowing, let the water trickle down my throat and thought: Thankyou, God for creating bikes. Thankyou for creating B. Thankyou, dear Lord, for simply allowing me to be alive.

After a long rest we re-mounted our bikes and set off for home. It was downhill the entire way. I find it impossible to describe the bliss and elation of that ride home. At one point I called out: “Shall I see if I can still ride without hands?” B came very close to toppling off. “Relax, Angel, I’m joking!” I laughed back.

I stood there while B took off her helmet and said: “There are times in one’s life where one experiences a tumbling of joy inside. Today, riding the bike, was one such moment. Thankyou, my Friend!”

That experience was more than merely breathtaking. It was awe-inspiring, astounding, overwhelming and at the same time a humbling event. It made me realise how lucky I am.

It also made me wonder if my balance will be improved by my second Cochlear Implant?

Balance. Life is all a question of balance.

Smile – I love living!

The post A Question of Balance! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.