My sister Michelle and I were riding our bikes down the hill in front of our house during the summer in 1971. This was a first for me because I had never been brave enough to venture beyond the driveway, much less down a hill. But she has always been irritatingly persistent. As gravity did its thing and we moved faster, I realized that I was going too fast to stop and I was scared…probably screaming. Then, I distinctly remember looking down at the ground and being amazed by the fact that my training wheels weren’t touching the ground anymore. That’s the way life works; if you never take a chance and go down the hill, you’ll probably never ride without your training wheels. You’ll stay close to the house where you feel safe and protected. It’s human nature. Unless you have someone in your life who encourages you, maybe dares you to go down the hill. That’s what Michelle has always done for me.
Even now in our 50s and 60s, she is still the risk-taker and trail-blazing entrepreneur. Willing to make mistakes and learn from them, willing to live her passion regardless of what anybody else thinks or says…the cautions from the crowd who stay close to the house where it’s safe. Despite a life-threatening, life-changing injury, she found a way to get back on her bike and eventually took the training wheels off…again. I’ve worked in physical rehab a long time and a lot of people don’t really come back from what she did, at least not without some pretty heavy meds. Not her style. The willingness to take risks and overcome failure and adversity gives her a unique perspective for her clients. You see, people who get a first hand look at the depths of their own soul have that ability. And she still challenges me to ride without the training wheels.
After that fateful ride down the hill, I received a new bike for my birthday…the kind of bike that was popular in the 70s. A yellow Schwinn with “sissy bars” and a black banana seat. If that wasn’t cool enough, I did what a lot of the other cool kids did and put a couple of playing cards in the spokes…makes it sound like a motorcycle. At least, it does when you’re seven years old. I rode that bike all over but eventually I got bored and wanted more challenges so my friends and I built ramps. And once you go over one ramp a few times, you get the courage to make it a little higher and a little more reckless. Pretty soon, you’re doing all kinds of stupid things that make your parents check the insurance policy to make sure it’s all covered.
I raised my kids to take even bigger risks, although some of our friends and family questioned my thought process from time to time. When they started skateboarding, Terri insisted they had pads and helmets. They looked like a pair of gladiators going out into the arena. Eventually, the pads and the helmets faded away. The training wheels came off and they did all kinds of crazy things that made us check our insurance policy. Not only did we jump on trampolines with (God forbid) no net…the three of us had pillow fights and wrestling matches up there as well. And we never retired an old trampoline until it completely fell apart, always putting the new one next to the old one. Sure, there were injuries and trips to the ER, but I always question anybody who says they’ve gotten through life unscathed…how far away from the driveway did you actually go?
Time has a way of putting the training wheels back on. We get older and wiser and put away foolish notions. Eventually, we have families and jobs and people who depend on us to contribute our time and our resources, be a good employee and add to society. We make sure to cut the grass and trim the bushes lest the Neighborhood Committee catches wind of our noncompliance. We monitor and contemplate every word and every action so we don’t accidentally offend somebody. We cover our faces and get inoculations so that every one feels safe. We participate in acceptable sports like basketball and golf, activities that people feel comfortable talking about. We stay in our lane and keep our distance, secure in the knowledge that the training wheels are firmly in place. How did we ever survive without them?
God never placed in us the spirit of fear; we develop it over time (2 Timothy 1:7, MSG). We got our feelings hurt, maybe got our bodies hurt and decided it was too much to handle. We stop taking risks and instead try to placate ourselves with stuff like sports cars that we only drive on Sundays, we buy huge TV screens, boats that we use once or twice a year. We numb ourselves with endless scrolling through social media, watching what other people do. It’s the closest we ever come to taking the training wheels off. We ride down the hill in the padded bumper lane. “What if I get hurt? What if I lose my heart or my money? What if people say mean things about me? What if people don’t like me or think I’m weird?” Want some advice? Let ‘em. Let them and then slowly push them out of your circle. Life is too short to worry about what other people think. Surround yourself with others who add to your life and remember, in the end, you and you alone will speak to God.
I started a martial arts class at the gym on Malmstrom AFB in Montana back in 1997. The class was intended for active duty folks and was pretty rough; sparring, grappling, throws. One of my first students, Larry, was a recently retired colonel, well known and respected. He was in his late 50s and had always wanted to train but never had the time. Malmstrom was a small base and he had a lot to lose; pride, reputation, the possibility of injury. He never gave it a second thought and would have made it to black belt had I not been reassigned to another base. He wasn’t a big dude and although he was in decent shape, not what I would call a fighter, at least not when he started classes. What he did have was tenacity, the kind that comes from not bowing to fear.
What about you? What is it that you want to do that other people may not have the guts or understanding to do? What is your fear? You can stay in the driveway and keep waxing the shiny car. Or…you can ride down the hill, leave your training wheels behind and free your heart.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho