This week I’ve been thinking of failure. It’s one of my biggest fears – that I will start something and not finish, or, finish but not finish well.  Which I know is silly – because it’s more of a failure to not have a go than it is to start and learn from the experience. History shows lots and lots of failures that lead to learning and, ultimately, success.

Still, I can tell you about a lot of failures going right back to my childhood that I sometimes still carry with me. And it’s one of those that I’ve especially been thinking about.

When I was 7 my Mum very patiently taught me to ride a bike. I was a little young and uncoordinated to go from not being able to ride anything more than a tricycle to independently riding sans training wheels, but there was a reason – we were off to Rottnest Island for a family holiday. And, on Rottnest, the chief way to get around is by bike.

So Mum  taught me to ride up and down the laneway at home, and, when we got to Rottnest, a bike was hired for me, along with every other member of the family. I was still a novice rider – and had yet to experience the joy of hill climbing – or descents – and was not too  good at using the foot brakes which most bikes had back in the 1970s.

You might see where this is heading. All went well the first day or so, but then we rode to the top of the tallest hill on the island, probably to see the lighthouse which is there.  My memory is hazy on what we did on the hill, and I have no memory of riding up the hill. But what I do recall, very vividly, is riding down. A steep descent, picking up speed and  going from feeling excited to realising I was losing control. Time to apply the brakes. Nothing happened.  My family, behind me, calling out ‘brake, Sally, brake!’ But the brakes weren’t working and I was panicking.  It didn’t end well. Very soon I was in a bush at the side of the road, and my bike was on the ground.

I wasn’t terribly injured, but I was rapidly surrounded by my siblings and parents, who, once they realised I was okay alternated between laughter and asking ‘why didn’t you use the brakes?’

‘They wouldn’t work’ I sobbed.

It was fairly quickly established that the brakes were fine – but, in my panic I was pushing the pedals forward instead of back.

This failure might have been quickly forgotten but for two things – for the rest of the holiday I was banned from riding any distance, and had, instead, to ride in the baby seat on the back of  Mum’s bike. The humiliation! I was seven!  And then, not just for the rest of the holiday but the rest of my life, every time that holiday was mentioned, the story of me careening out of control down the hill to the cries of ‘brake, Sally, brake’ was told. And retold. With everyone laughing except me. When you are the butt of a funny story you don’t always see the humour – especially when it reminds you of a failure. (As an aside, it amazes me that my fall has been immortalised on yellow signs on the island)

 

BUT this story has a postscript. I have been coming to Rottnest a lot over the last few years. And, at first, I was very reluctant to hire a bike. Too many memories. But gradually I realised I was missing out on a lot. In February, for the first time, I finally hired a bike, and loved it.  And yesterday, back on Rottnest, I rode to the lighthouse – and successfully rode down it! And then I rode to the top of the second highest hill and rode down that too.

The smile I had coming down was as big as it would have been if I was till 7 – maybe bigger.

And, of course, I realised that some failures are temporary. Sometimes the next  day, the next week, the next month, other times 40 plus years later, another try gets a better result.

I’m going to try to remember that the next time I feel I’ve failed.

In the meantime, since it’s Poetry Friday, here’s a poem I wrote some time ago in celebration of bikes (and hills).

 

Hills

 

Going uphill on a bike

Is tough.

Really tough.

Muscles strain

Legs burn

Each push of the pedals

Gains an inch –

If I’m lucky.

Up out of the seat

Pushing, urging, groaning.

Thighs tight

Eyes yearn

Searching for the peak

Will it ever end?

 

BUT

 

Going downhill on a bike

Is fun

Really fun

Pedals turn

Of their accord

Lean back

Arms off handlebars

Look at me!

The bottom comes too soon.

 

(Copyright Sally Murphy)

 

And, in case you think I came to Rottnest without snorkelling, here’s a little glimpse under the sea.

Poetry Friday today is hosted by  Carol. Pop over later and see what other poetry successes are being shared.