Growing up I would have voted myself most unlikely to ever finish a triathlon. Not because I wasn’t athletic, but because I couldn’t swim or ride a bike. I suppose if my family were asked if that is true, there would be a bit of a debate. My sister would loudly proclaim that I could do neither. My dad would do his best to make it sound like I could ride a bike without definitively saying that I could ride a bike, and talk about how he was worried about my chances of survival in water. And my mom would likely make a joke about doggie paddling or tricycles. But I can now proudly say that after spending a month on Holbox Island, I can ride a bike and swim. I am now a part of the exclusive dual threat club, composed of people ages three and up from all over the world.
The inspiration was largely intrinsic, but this video also played a part in my motivation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaIvk1cSyG8
The inspiration was largely intrinsic, but this video also played a part in my motivation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaIvk1cSyG8
A question you may have is how could any kid grow up not learning how to ride a bike or swim? I actually kind of learned how to do both when I was younger, but the combination of never becoming completely competent and a decade of no use equaled not being able to do either. Both activities also have very negative associations for me, so I’m sure that has contributed to me avoiding them.
When my family moved into my neighborhood, we learned that the swim team was a popular activity. So my parents took me to one practice in the middle of the season, and from what I remember, I finished dead last in the warm up. My hypercompetitive, oversensitive five year old self was so embarrassed that I got out of the pool right after warm up and walked home with my parents, never to be seen again.
Whereas my swimming experience was mentally painful, my biking experience was physically unfortunate. It all started with baseball cards. I was obsessed with baseball as a child. I studied the box scores every day in the newspaper, and could name what seemed like any player in the MLB along with their batting percentage, home run, RBI, steals, triple, and hit totals, along with just about any other statistic they printed in the newspaper. Another way for me to glean statistical information was through baseball cards. My dad used this as an incentive to get me to learn how to ride a bike, which was and is one of his favorite hobbies.
We went to an elementary school nearby, and off went the training wheels I had become so fond of. Maybe a minute of joyful riding went by before I crashed into a pole. To this day whenever I think about that incident and me falling off of my seat onto the top tube of the bike, I pray to the fertility gods. It was traumatic to say the least.
I don’t actually mind getting in warm water when my feet can touch. Natural bodies of water especially appeal to me, as they sometimes present the opportunity to body surf. The water surrounding Holbox is too calm to body surf, but it was warm enough for me to actually get in and cold enough to feel refreshing after a day of work under the hot sun.
The first few days of “swimming” at Holbox consisted of keeping my head completely above water and my feet firmly planted on the ground. After that I started to get adventurous and dip my chin in the water. This was the first step in overcoming my fear of water touching my face. After that I replicated what my sister had her four year olds do when she taught swim lessons: blow bubbles. It was a slow process, but after a while I was able to feel a modicum of comfort with my face in the water.
The natural next step in the progression was to try and actually swim. I tried two different strokes, the crawl stroke and the breast stroke. My first attempt at the crawl stroke would better be described as thrashing than swimming, and when I tried to go underwater for the breast stroke I invariably ended up popping my head back above water nearly right after it was submerged. But spend thirty straight days in the water and improvement is bound to happen. And happen it did! I am still no Michael Phelps, but if the water is calm and the lifeguards are lax, I may now be able to pass a swim test.
Learning how to ride a bike was not nearly as purposeful. There was always a part of me that wanted to jump on a bike and ride, but the fear of failing always prevailed. It took the practicality of needing to get to downtown Holbox and back quickly to get me peddling. Our fellow farmer Will told us about the annual Holbox fishing tournament that was held downtown, and it sounded like a fun thing to experience. The only hang up was that we were supposed to be working. So we compromised with our boss, agreeing to only take an hour and a half including transportation time and then working the ninety minutes when we got back.
A sinking feeling entered my body when Will started walking over to the bikes. I looked over at Kelsey who was smiling mischievously, obviously hoping that what I didn’t want to happen did. “Vamos,” said Will, telling us to hurry up. Kelsey started covering her mouth and laughing when Will thrust a set of handlebars into my unenthusiastic hands.
There were only two bikes for three people. I couldn’t ride a bike so there was no way Kelsey was going to sit sidesaddle as I pedaled. Kelsey didn't want to pedal with me sitting on her lap, so that left one option if we wanted to go to the fishing tournament. Will was going to have to pedal with Kelsey sitting sidesaddle and I was going to have to actually ride a bike.
Daniel’s girlfriend Tatiana had walked outside to see the spectacle that was obviously going to take place. I spent two minutes lamely trying to explain that I didn’t actually know how to ride a bike, but only got laughter in response. I basically had two options: stay home or ride the bike to the fishing tournament. Tempted as I was to choose option one; I knew that it was a good opportunity to learn how to ride a bike. The Holbox streets were wide, unpopulated with cars, had minimal foot traffic, and made of sand in case I did end up biting the dust.
Thank god the seat was low enough for me to be basically sitting while I tried to get started. I took a deep breath, looked at the three faces trying desperately to hold in their laughter, and then pushed down hard on one of the pedals. I was upright! I pushed down hard on the other pedal, and then the first pedal again. I was going! “Keep going!” “Muy bien!” “The faster you pedal the easier it is!” I barely heard the screams of encouragement behind me as I was pedaling, surprised and thrilled that I was actually moving on a bike.
As my navigational abilities are still wildly inept, I had no clue how to get downtown despite the island’s tiny footprint. So I just kept peddling, focusing on staying upright. It was kind of fun, having the wind sweep over me like that. It felt like I was gliding, smoothly moving past the scenery. Only a minute passed before I heard yells of “Derecha, derecha!” I turned right on the next road and met up with Kelsey and Will. They were struggling, and at one point had to dismount after veering into the bushes on the side of the road. This left me constantly having to guess on turns, and as a result having to double back. There was no way I was going to stop and try and get started again, and riding slow wasn’t an option either. I was shaky enough as it was, so I had to go full steam ahead!
Riding past golf carts was a bit nerve-racking, but after the first few it was something that I had gotten used to. I had to employ one of my driving tactics though: look straight ahead, because I drifted towards the golf carts if I looked at them. After what seemed like an hour but was probably more like ten minutes we reached our destination. I swung my left leg over the bike and jumped off, running alongside the bike for a second before coming to a rough stop, but a stop nonetheless.
The fishing tournament itself was wrapping up after we had been there for fifteen minutes, and the awards ceremony started thirty minutes after that. There as a lot of energy, beer, and fish tacos in the makeshift stands on the beach. The four prizes were a car (ironic as cars are not allowed on Holbox), a motorcycle, a bike, and a flat screen TV. After each winner was announced, they all posed next to the prizes. Although the winners were happy to receive their prizes, the atmosphere was very relaxed and noncompetitive.
As we left the fishing tournament a local pulled me aside and asked me in Spanish if I was Harry Potter. This was not a new question for me, but the topic came up much less frequently since I switched to a sharper edged pair of glasses. For the sake of the conversation I told him that yes, I was indeed Harry Potter. He asked me to clarify if I was the original Harry Potter, and I nodded my head again. This lead to him asking me if I was going to make another movie, what I was doing on Holbox Island, asking if Kelsey was my girlfriend, complementing me on my Spanish, taking a picture of me with his wife and daughter, and offering to buy me a drink. We had to get back to work, but otherwise it would have been interesting to see how long I could keep up the act.
On the way back to Casa Blatha, when I wasn’t thinking about avoiding golf carts or staying balanced I wondered why the man was so gullible. A pair of middle school girls believed that I was Daniel Radcliffe when I was volunteering at an after school snack program in Pennsylvania. But then they pulled out their iPhones and Google imaged him to find that our eye colors were in fact different. I suppose the man had no reason to think I was lying. Did that make me a bad person? I don’t think so. The guy and his family had a fun moment in their afternoon and I got to be a celebrity for ten minutes. That’s how I justify it to myself at least.
After that first bike ride to the fishing tournament I had a hankering for more. When the bikes at Casa Blatha weren’t rented out to guests, Kelsey and I would ride around the island. None of the subsequent rides gave me quite the same “gliding” feeling I had on the first ride, but they were enjoyable. No pole collisions. It was a fun way to see the island.
I don’t think I regret taking a fifteen year hiatus from biking and swimming. I was ardently a team sports guy, and I don’t think I would trade any of those experiences for a bike ride or swim. But going forward I hope to enjoy some bike rides with my family and be less finicky around water, even if I don’t participate in a triathlon. How do I feel about that? Happy of myself : )
When my family moved into my neighborhood, we learned that the swim team was a popular activity. So my parents took me to one practice in the middle of the season, and from what I remember, I finished dead last in the warm up. My hypercompetitive, oversensitive five year old self was so embarrassed that I got out of the pool right after warm up and walked home with my parents, never to be seen again.
Whereas my swimming experience was mentally painful, my biking experience was physically unfortunate. It all started with baseball cards. I was obsessed with baseball as a child. I studied the box scores every day in the newspaper, and could name what seemed like any player in the MLB along with their batting percentage, home run, RBI, steals, triple, and hit totals, along with just about any other statistic they printed in the newspaper. Another way for me to glean statistical information was through baseball cards. My dad used this as an incentive to get me to learn how to ride a bike, which was and is one of his favorite hobbies.
We went to an elementary school nearby, and off went the training wheels I had become so fond of. Maybe a minute of joyful riding went by before I crashed into a pole. To this day whenever I think about that incident and me falling off of my seat onto the top tube of the bike, I pray to the fertility gods. It was traumatic to say the least.
I don’t actually mind getting in warm water when my feet can touch. Natural bodies of water especially appeal to me, as they sometimes present the opportunity to body surf. The water surrounding Holbox is too calm to body surf, but it was warm enough for me to actually get in and cold enough to feel refreshing after a day of work under the hot sun.
The first few days of “swimming” at Holbox consisted of keeping my head completely above water and my feet firmly planted on the ground. After that I started to get adventurous and dip my chin in the water. This was the first step in overcoming my fear of water touching my face. After that I replicated what my sister had her four year olds do when she taught swim lessons: blow bubbles. It was a slow process, but after a while I was able to feel a modicum of comfort with my face in the water.
The natural next step in the progression was to try and actually swim. I tried two different strokes, the crawl stroke and the breast stroke. My first attempt at the crawl stroke would better be described as thrashing than swimming, and when I tried to go underwater for the breast stroke I invariably ended up popping my head back above water nearly right after it was submerged. But spend thirty straight days in the water and improvement is bound to happen. And happen it did! I am still no Michael Phelps, but if the water is calm and the lifeguards are lax, I may now be able to pass a swim test.
Learning how to ride a bike was not nearly as purposeful. There was always a part of me that wanted to jump on a bike and ride, but the fear of failing always prevailed. It took the practicality of needing to get to downtown Holbox and back quickly to get me peddling. Our fellow farmer Will told us about the annual Holbox fishing tournament that was held downtown, and it sounded like a fun thing to experience. The only hang up was that we were supposed to be working. So we compromised with our boss, agreeing to only take an hour and a half including transportation time and then working the ninety minutes when we got back.
A sinking feeling entered my body when Will started walking over to the bikes. I looked over at Kelsey who was smiling mischievously, obviously hoping that what I didn’t want to happen did. “Vamos,” said Will, telling us to hurry up. Kelsey started covering her mouth and laughing when Will thrust a set of handlebars into my unenthusiastic hands.
There were only two bikes for three people. I couldn’t ride a bike so there was no way Kelsey was going to sit sidesaddle as I pedaled. Kelsey didn't want to pedal with me sitting on her lap, so that left one option if we wanted to go to the fishing tournament. Will was going to have to pedal with Kelsey sitting sidesaddle and I was going to have to actually ride a bike.
Daniel’s girlfriend Tatiana had walked outside to see the spectacle that was obviously going to take place. I spent two minutes lamely trying to explain that I didn’t actually know how to ride a bike, but only got laughter in response. I basically had two options: stay home or ride the bike to the fishing tournament. Tempted as I was to choose option one; I knew that it was a good opportunity to learn how to ride a bike. The Holbox streets were wide, unpopulated with cars, had minimal foot traffic, and made of sand in case I did end up biting the dust.
Thank god the seat was low enough for me to be basically sitting while I tried to get started. I took a deep breath, looked at the three faces trying desperately to hold in their laughter, and then pushed down hard on one of the pedals. I was upright! I pushed down hard on the other pedal, and then the first pedal again. I was going! “Keep going!” “Muy bien!” “The faster you pedal the easier it is!” I barely heard the screams of encouragement behind me as I was pedaling, surprised and thrilled that I was actually moving on a bike.
As my navigational abilities are still wildly inept, I had no clue how to get downtown despite the island’s tiny footprint. So I just kept peddling, focusing on staying upright. It was kind of fun, having the wind sweep over me like that. It felt like I was gliding, smoothly moving past the scenery. Only a minute passed before I heard yells of “Derecha, derecha!” I turned right on the next road and met up with Kelsey and Will. They were struggling, and at one point had to dismount after veering into the bushes on the side of the road. This left me constantly having to guess on turns, and as a result having to double back. There was no way I was going to stop and try and get started again, and riding slow wasn’t an option either. I was shaky enough as it was, so I had to go full steam ahead!
Riding past golf carts was a bit nerve-racking, but after the first few it was something that I had gotten used to. I had to employ one of my driving tactics though: look straight ahead, because I drifted towards the golf carts if I looked at them. After what seemed like an hour but was probably more like ten minutes we reached our destination. I swung my left leg over the bike and jumped off, running alongside the bike for a second before coming to a rough stop, but a stop nonetheless.
The fishing tournament itself was wrapping up after we had been there for fifteen minutes, and the awards ceremony started thirty minutes after that. There as a lot of energy, beer, and fish tacos in the makeshift stands on the beach. The four prizes were a car (ironic as cars are not allowed on Holbox), a motorcycle, a bike, and a flat screen TV. After each winner was announced, they all posed next to the prizes. Although the winners were happy to receive their prizes, the atmosphere was very relaxed and noncompetitive.
As we left the fishing tournament a local pulled me aside and asked me in Spanish if I was Harry Potter. This was not a new question for me, but the topic came up much less frequently since I switched to a sharper edged pair of glasses. For the sake of the conversation I told him that yes, I was indeed Harry Potter. He asked me to clarify if I was the original Harry Potter, and I nodded my head again. This lead to him asking me if I was going to make another movie, what I was doing on Holbox Island, asking if Kelsey was my girlfriend, complementing me on my Spanish, taking a picture of me with his wife and daughter, and offering to buy me a drink. We had to get back to work, but otherwise it would have been interesting to see how long I could keep up the act.
On the way back to Casa Blatha, when I wasn’t thinking about avoiding golf carts or staying balanced I wondered why the man was so gullible. A pair of middle school girls believed that I was Daniel Radcliffe when I was volunteering at an after school snack program in Pennsylvania. But then they pulled out their iPhones and Google imaged him to find that our eye colors were in fact different. I suppose the man had no reason to think I was lying. Did that make me a bad person? I don’t think so. The guy and his family had a fun moment in their afternoon and I got to be a celebrity for ten minutes. That’s how I justify it to myself at least.
After that first bike ride to the fishing tournament I had a hankering for more. When the bikes at Casa Blatha weren’t rented out to guests, Kelsey and I would ride around the island. None of the subsequent rides gave me quite the same “gliding” feeling I had on the first ride, but they were enjoyable. No pole collisions. It was a fun way to see the island.
I don’t think I regret taking a fifteen year hiatus from biking and swimming. I was ardently a team sports guy, and I don’t think I would trade any of those experiences for a bike ride or swim. But going forward I hope to enjoy some bike rides with my family and be less finicky around water, even if I don’t participate in a triathlon. How do I feel about that? Happy of myself : )