I’ve always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with cycling. I loved it as a kid – the freedom, the races with mates, the inevitable scrapes and grazes that made you feel like you’d actually done something with your day. Then adulthood happened, and the bike gathered dust somewhere between the shed and my good intentions.
But a few months ago, something shifted. Maybe it was the creeping sense that I wasn’t as fit as I used to be. Maybe it was seeing the kids spend more time staring at screens than the great outdoors. Or maybe it was the dawning realisation that petrol prices and parking are now hobbies for masochists. Whatever the reason, I decided it was time to get back in the saddle – literally.
The Midlife Wobble
The first ride was humbling. I’d bought a new bike – nothing fancy, just a sensible hybrid with tyres that wouldn’t explode if they saw a pebble – and thought I’d take it for a spin around the local park. Within ten minutes, I was panting like I’d just outrun a bear, and my legs were writing strongly worded letters to the rest of my body.
But there was also that old feeling again – the one I hadn’t realised I’d missed. The breeze in your face, the little surge of satisfaction when you find a rhythm, the moment you realise you’ve gone further than planned. It was strangely addictive, in a wholesome, middle-aged kind of way.
I didn’t set out to become a hardcore cyclist. You won’t see me in full Lycra with clip-in shoes and a Garmin dashboard. I just wanted to move more, feel better, and maybe find a hobby that wasn’t watching Match of the Day highlights for the third time in a weekend.
From Solo Rides To Family Days Out
After a few weeks, I started talking about it more at home. Mostly because I couldn’t stop – I’d become that person who says, “Actually, cycling’s really good for your knees” while pouring cereal. The kids were curious at first, then interested, then downright jealous. They both had bikes gathering dust too, relics from last summer’s short-lived enthusiasm for the great outdoors.
So we made a plan: one family ride at the weekend, nothing too serious. A few miles along the cycle path, maybe an ice cream stop halfway, then home again before anyone complained about saddle soreness.
The first outing was chaos. One child set off like they were in the Tour de France; the other stopped every thirty seconds to inspect an interesting stick. There were crashes (small ones), sulks (bigger ones), and more snack breaks than strictly necessary. But when we got home, everyone was grinning. The kids had rediscovered something that screens can’t replicate: that sense of adventure, of moving through the world under your own steam.
Now, it’s become a bit of a ritual. Sunday mornings are family ride time. We mix it up with new routes – local parks, canal paths, and even the occasional brave foray into countryside trails. The rides have got longer, the complaints fewer. The promise of a post-ride hot chocolate helps, of course.
The Hidden Benefits
The obvious benefit has been physical. I’m fitter now than I was a year ago, and the kids can easily keep up with me (which is equal parts impressive and slightly depressing). But there’s more to it than fitness.
Cycling has become our little escape. No phones, no notifications, no background noise – just pedalling, chatting, and the occasional argument about who gets to lead the pack. It’s also been great for the kids’ confidence. They’ve learned to navigate roads safely, fix a dropped chain, and pace themselves. I’ve even caught them using words like “cadence” and “gears” in normal conversation, which makes me quietly proud and slightly amused.
For me, it’s also been a mental reset. Work, parenting, and life in general can leave your brain feeling like a browser with 57 tabs open. An hour on the bike clears that right up. It’s just you, your thoughts, and the steady rhythm of movement. I’ve had some of my best ideas – and solved a few parenting conundrums – halfway up a hill.
Small Challenges And How We’re Managing Them
It hasn’t all been smooth pedalling, of course. The weather, for one thing, has opinions about our plans. There have been wet, windy rides where we’ve all questioned our life choices halfway through. Then there’s the logistics – packing snacks, water, helmets, puncture kits, and somehow remembering who last wore which waterproof jacket.
But like most family activities, it’s the imperfections that make it memorable. The day we got caught in a sudden downpour and ended up laughing our way home, soaked to the skin, is one of those stories the kids still bring up. And every small challenge – from fixing a puncture together to navigating a busy crossing – has made the kids more capable and me a little more patient.
We’ve also discovered that cycling is sneakily educational. They’ve picked up bits of local geography, wildlife spotting skills, and even a vague sense of direction – which, frankly, is more than I can say for myself some days.
Rediscovering Ourselves
What’s surprised me most is how much cycling has balanced things out for us as a family. It’s not about speed or competition; it’s about spending time together doing something active, simple, and real. We’ve swapped some lazy Sunday mornings for fresh air and mud-splattered shoes, and I wouldn’t trade it.
It’s also brought back a sense of play that’s easy to lose as a parent. When you’re all out there wobbling over a trail or racing to the next lamppost, you stop being just “Dad the organiser” and become part of the fun again.
We’re not turning into a cycling family in the full Lycra sense – you won’t catch us training for triathlons or arguing about carbon frames. But it’s become part of who we are now. The bikes live near the front of the garage instead of the back, the helmets hang neatly by the door, and weekends feel incomplete without at least one ride.
Next on the list is a longer day trip. There’s a trail about ten miles away that ends near a café with legendary scones, and that seems like motivation enough. If that goes well, maybe even a short cycling holiday one day. Baby steps – or rather, pedal strokes.
So if you’re thinking about dusting off your bike, do it. Start small, go easy, and see where the road takes you. You might just find, like we did, that two wheels can take you much further than you’d think.