On Being a Cycling Dad

Photo 1.jpg

A few days ago I sat on the sofa together with my wife Anne-Mie and my children, Ries, Hannah and Charlie. In my hands were four hand-written messages of love and support, wishing me success for my first races of the season in South Africa.

Eight-year-old Charlie had drawn me his dream aeroplane, with a cycling training track, gym and Jacuzzi. Hannah, who is eleven, had drawn a colourful mountain with bikes on top, and a winners trophy boldly standing forth. My big boy Ries had simply written ‘Our NR 1, Always.’ And from my wife, cut-out pictures of my face stuck on winning Orica GreenEdge riders, with funny remarks about podium girls.

How many opportunities do we have in our adult lives to receive such expressions of unwavering support? Of course, as kids many of us experienced encouragement for our youthful endeavours. But it seems that the older we get the fewer chances we have for people to cheer us on in living out our dreams. Sure, we might get complemented and rewarded by our colleagues for our  work achievements. But for me that is nothing like receiving sincere encouragement from those we love, for pursuing the passions that bring life meaning.

For me, this heartfelt expression of support from my family gives me such motivation. Because my wife and my children are telling me that this dream to realise the potential that I have as a sportsman is something for all of us to celebrate. They know more than anyone how hard I work, how much I suffer when I crash, and the discipline and sacrifices that are required to get on to the podium at the international level.

I understand that this sporting journey is far from a solo undertaking. A few years ago I remember crashing in one of those crazy and fast Belgian Kermise races in East Flanders. I shattered my left collarbone, cracked my pelvis and was sent by ambulance to the nearest hospital in a town called Dendermonde. My wife and then five-year-old son Charlie came to visit me in the hospital after the surgery on my shoulder, and I could see the worry in their faces. It was mid 2012 and about twelve months before the target event of my biking comeback – the World Masters Games in Italy.

As I lay in the hospital bed, my little boy took my hand and stared into my eyes. He asked, with worry in his voice, “Pappa, when will you be able to ride your bike again. Will you still be able to do the World Championships.” I smiled back at him, and said “Yes Charlie, it will take a little time for my body to get better, but I will be ready.” A few minutes later he managed to accidentally press the button on the bed remote control, almost catapulting me across the room.

And in August 2013 Charlie and his Mum, brother and sister cheered me on to a bronze medal in the road race at the World Masters Games in Torino. As I crossed the finish line, they were all waiting with outstretched arms.

But perhaps what made me proudest about standing on the podium in Torino was the fact that we had already started to see in our children this courage to dream big, to believe that anything is possible if you have energy and focus and self-belief. It’s part of why I ride my bike, to show my children that life is for living.

I am sure that the future will give us many more reasons for celebration. Not just through my own sporting adventures, but also in celebrating whatever dreams my wife and my three children aspire to achieve.

Photo 2.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s