Post by Emerson on Sept 7, 2018 13:16:36 GMT -5
You can learn a lot from falling off a bicycle. Don't you know that? Come on. That is one of the first life lessons. Maybe you don't like talking about your history because you feel you don't have one. I feel like that sometimes. This month the biggest drama I had was I burnt a chicken in the oven, I definitely am not Martha Stuart.
So Jaime I saw what you had to say in your first promo. You didn't really say much at least not much that mattered to anyone. Kinda a filler wasn't it? Like filler in a burrito, no im not poking fun at your race, I happen to like burritos. Funny thing, did you know burritos are actually not a food native to Mexico, yeah for real, its actually more native to Central America and Spain. Anyway I digress. Wow I can use big words too, yay! Anyway lets get back to the bicycle thing.
When I was 5 years old my dad bought me my first bicycle at a garage sale down the street. He got it for 10 bucks. I still remember it, it was a Huffy bmx. Not really an appropriate bicycle for a 5 year old but hey that was besides the point.
My dad brought it home and told me it was time for me to learn how to ride a bike, but as he said that my mom called him in, he came back outside told me he had to go to work and told me that learning how to ride a bike would help define me as a young man and later help define me what kind of man I would be.
I didn't understand him, not one bit. But I was excited to get on the bike.
My dad sat me on the bike and told me to take it slow and that I would fall off, but it was important that I get up again. And not stop till I learned. I nodded my head and he smiled and he left.
I had seen my sister and kids in the neighborhood riding, it didn't look that difficult. As I put my feet on the pedals, I instantly fell over. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I got up though and looked back at my house. My mother was watching with great concern but I think my dad had warned her about coming out to help. My sister was at her friends house so she wasn't around to help. The thing didn't even have training wheels, for Christs sake! This time I manged to pedal a little and fell to my left, I hurt my knee something fierce. I cried a little I wont lie. But I got up again. And Jaime, I have always gotten up, back then, today, and tomorrow. I am always gonna get up. Fast or slow but eventually I dust myself off and get up.
I tried for about another hour. I ended up with scrapes on my arm, cheek, nose, both elbows. My arms were all bruised up. After 2 hours I was nowhere near my goal. I realized I was trying to run before I could walk. So I decided first I would master just sitting on the damn thing and balancing myself. Then I rode around on my tippy toes around the house just getting a feel. Then I would put my feet up and ride a few feet with no pedals, again I did this for a while. Finally I used the pedals and understood somehow that I had to pedal slowly and keep my balance, the key was balance. Something that I used in other aspects of my life.
I learned to balance work and personal life. Balance family and personal life. Balance with who I am and who I wanted to be. My father was right. Riding a bike would help me in ways I couldn't understand back then.
Finally I was riding the bike, wobbly at first, but as the next hour zoomed, so did I. I would wave to my mother who was watching me through the kitchen windows and she was smiling and had tears in her eyes. She was so proud of me. After a while she came out stopped me and hugged me. I let her.
My body hurt for a week afterwards from learning to ride a bike on my own. But I did it. So Jaime you said what was the point of telling a story about riding or falling off a bike. Well I just showed you, I showed you that no story is stupid. Nothing from the past is trivial. Our past helps define us, shows others who we are and reminds us who we are.
Jaime, I stand up when I fall. I always stand up.
Fade to black
So Jaime I saw what you had to say in your first promo. You didn't really say much at least not much that mattered to anyone. Kinda a filler wasn't it? Like filler in a burrito, no im not poking fun at your race, I happen to like burritos. Funny thing, did you know burritos are actually not a food native to Mexico, yeah for real, its actually more native to Central America and Spain. Anyway I digress. Wow I can use big words too, yay! Anyway lets get back to the bicycle thing.
When I was 5 years old my dad bought me my first bicycle at a garage sale down the street. He got it for 10 bucks. I still remember it, it was a Huffy bmx. Not really an appropriate bicycle for a 5 year old but hey that was besides the point.
My dad brought it home and told me it was time for me to learn how to ride a bike, but as he said that my mom called him in, he came back outside told me he had to go to work and told me that learning how to ride a bike would help define me as a young man and later help define me what kind of man I would be.
I didn't understand him, not one bit. But I was excited to get on the bike.
My dad sat me on the bike and told me to take it slow and that I would fall off, but it was important that I get up again. And not stop till I learned. I nodded my head and he smiled and he left.
I had seen my sister and kids in the neighborhood riding, it didn't look that difficult. As I put my feet on the pedals, I instantly fell over. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I got up though and looked back at my house. My mother was watching with great concern but I think my dad had warned her about coming out to help. My sister was at her friends house so she wasn't around to help. The thing didn't even have training wheels, for Christs sake! This time I manged to pedal a little and fell to my left, I hurt my knee something fierce. I cried a little I wont lie. But I got up again. And Jaime, I have always gotten up, back then, today, and tomorrow. I am always gonna get up. Fast or slow but eventually I dust myself off and get up.
I tried for about another hour. I ended up with scrapes on my arm, cheek, nose, both elbows. My arms were all bruised up. After 2 hours I was nowhere near my goal. I realized I was trying to run before I could walk. So I decided first I would master just sitting on the damn thing and balancing myself. Then I rode around on my tippy toes around the house just getting a feel. Then I would put my feet up and ride a few feet with no pedals, again I did this for a while. Finally I used the pedals and understood somehow that I had to pedal slowly and keep my balance, the key was balance. Something that I used in other aspects of my life.
I learned to balance work and personal life. Balance family and personal life. Balance with who I am and who I wanted to be. My father was right. Riding a bike would help me in ways I couldn't understand back then.
Finally I was riding the bike, wobbly at first, but as the next hour zoomed, so did I. I would wave to my mother who was watching me through the kitchen windows and she was smiling and had tears in her eyes. She was so proud of me. After a while she came out stopped me and hugged me. I let her.
My body hurt for a week afterwards from learning to ride a bike on my own. But I did it. So Jaime you said what was the point of telling a story about riding or falling off a bike. Well I just showed you, I showed you that no story is stupid. Nothing from the past is trivial. Our past helps define us, shows others who we are and reminds us who we are.
Jaime, I stand up when I fall. I always stand up.
Fade to black
