As the age old adage goes, ‘it’s like learning to ride a bike, you never forget how’. Well I did! My last memory of doing that was around aged 7. My Dad had repeatedly taken me to the local park with my shiny new two wheeler, streamers wafting in the breeze and painstakingly persevered with his unbalanced daughter as I struggled and wobbled on that gleam machine until finally I rode free, little ginger bunches flying as I gleefully glided around the park, having mastered this new skill. Then I crashed. Painfully into the biggest, deepest, muddiest puddle in Scotland. I never rode again.

Until, that is, I became a mother and I realised there were a whole bunch of things I felt it was essential I do with my children and I had a gnawing feeling I needed to re-learn this long lost skill.

Now older and bolder, living in a pretty, Middle England village with two young children, I felt they were missing out on a basic pastime which all their friends were enjoying with their parents.  Until last year, the boys had gone on bike rides with their Dad but I felt I needed to step up to the plate and teach myself once more. However, I was petrified of not only falling off spectacularly but of doing myself a real injury.

I tried once, a few years back, a friend offered to help me out and I gave it a go but within seconds I was flat out on the cul-de-sac flavoured concrete, acrylic nails brutally snapped in half and cuts to my hands and arms matching my badly bruised ego, with Harry looking on, horrified. I put that pursuit on the back burner there and then!

Last year saw me resolve to change this forever and I scoured the net for adult learning courses. Luckily I found one nearby in Bedford, run by the council, more info here and even better, free! I would have to get myself to their offices for an hour every Thursday evening for 6 weeks and by the end of it, I’d at least be gaining confidence.

It would be such an effort, into town at peak time, in between school pick-ups, work and a busy night of spray tans, but I was determined.

I turned up, sparkly pumps and skinny jeans on and a little over an hour later, I drove home bashed up, in pain and dejected. I hadn’t even managed any foot-to-pedal action!I really thought at this point I would not go back but summer was fast approaching and I was desperate to take my boys out on the bikes!

The following week I arrived wearing trainers, leggings and shin pads on the back of each leg – yes really – those pedals HURT!! And yes I looked ridiculous but I was damn well going to do those boys proud!

Midway through week 2, I finally lifted my feet of the ground, managed to hit the pedals and off I went! For about 10 yards. BUMP. On again, freewheeling – wheeee! – CRASH! And on it went for the rest of the lesson, but I could feel the tide turning! I was doing it, little by little!

The next few weeks passed super fast and I gained in confidence, until week 6 when I was able to ride freely up and down the waterfront in Bedford Park with the sun on my back and the wind in my hair, I really felt alive! Not only was I achieving my goal that I set myself solely to please my children but I simultaneously discovered one of the biggest pleasures I now have for myself!

Now, a year on, like Zoolander, I can’t turn left (or right!) as that would require me to take my hand of the handlebars and that’s just a step too far, but I can ride to do the school run, around the stunning Forest Centre at our local award-winning Millenium Park and anywhere we go I can pick up a bike and join in with the family fun. I even got in the saddle with my friend Nicky, on our annual girls weekend away, you can read all about that here. My boys are proud of me and they can see that determination works, so for me it’s definitely mission accomplished.

Do you like cycling? Or are have you gone back to square one like I did?