Second Nature - Biking kids to school and how thinking is expressed in movement
The best assignment I ever received in any course of study was in a graduate class in the Alexander Technique where we were instructed to brush our teeth at home only with our less dominant hand until it became second nature. It seemed odd at the time, and the first attempt felt more than a little like my first attempt at windsurfing. I was fairly certain that the former would end in a similar fashion as the latter, and I wasn’t at all certain what the point of the assignment was until much later when I suddenly woke up one day and found that I could brush my teeth with either hand. I was ambidextrous at personal dental hygiene, in spite of what I had allowed my mind to tell me about my body. It was precisely because of this assignment that I began commuting to work on my bike, and eventually taking my daughter to school that way.
Frederick Matthias Alexander (1869-1955) was a Shakespearean actor who suffered repeatedly from acute laryngitis. At the time the prevailing theory was that there was no cure, so Alexander began an exhaustive nine-year self-observational study that cured him completely. His technique teaches “the ability to make a new choice in spite of established habitual patterns by studying the kinesthetic evidence of how thinking is expressed in movement.” I didn’t know any of this at the time, but I had learned in the simplest possible way that what I had thought I was capable of and was actually capable of were two very different things. Dabbling in triathlons at the time, I was hooked on cycling but not cycling in Boston in winter, which made about as much sense to me as…well, windsurfing. But a small promotional pamphlet on bike commuting from Rodale Press arrived in the mail one day with my subscription to Runner’s World Magazine, and I began to think about the reasons I thought it wasn’t viable. One by one, the reasons made less and less sense and I gave it a try. Before long, biking to work also became second nature.
A few years later when my daughter enrolled in a pre-school six miles from home, I retired my bike to the garage, resigned to driving her every day on my way to work. She didn’t really like the bike seat, or the requisite helmet for that matter, and we didn’t yet own a bike trailer with a cover for rainy days. We had moved to Los Angeles when she was born, where the number of rainy days in a year can be typically counted on two hands and yet, almost no one commutes by bike. Sitting in the line of armor-clad SUVs at her school one morning, it occurred to me that the real reason we didn’t commute by bike: it just wasn’t the norm. Los Angeles is a place where you periodically find yourself doing, saying, or wearing things that upon reflection seem inconsistent with who you really are, and driving my daughter to work was one of those things. So we began brushing our teeth with our left hands, as it were, and before long it seemed normal to both of us. It took some sorting out, like anything that isn’t habitual. Finding the right route, managing work clothes, and battling inconsiderate drivers were all part of the learning curve, but I don’t recall any particular incidents. I do, however, remember very clearly the moment she burst into tears as a three year-old when I told her we couldn’t take the bike because I had a meeting out of the office that necessitated driving. She wouldn’t put down her helmet, and screamed bloody murder when I strapped her into the car seat. That moment of discovery, like every great moment of discovery in parenthood, came from a seed that had grown in her that I didn’t know had been sown. Here was the kinesthetic evidence that our new choice had become our established habitual pattern.
We still bike to school, now only three blocks away, and she rides her own bike. At every school she’s attended, by year-end there are a couple of parents who have taken up riding to school with their kids, and it always brings a smile to her face. She thinks nothing of hopping on her bike to ride to our favorite breakfast joint, and I hope that will continue as she gets older. I would probably be a lot more wistful about her being too big to fit in the bike seat if her younger brother wasn’t busy screaming bloody murder about wearing his baby helmet.
Bike Commuting Basics
There are several great websites that offer detailed information about commuting by bike, and a few have information about biking with kids. In general, though it is an adjustment in many ways, the most important thing is to be as safe as possible as you are learning to anticipate and ultimately avoid traffic hazards. This means always wearing helmets, riding safely in the flow of traffic, and choosing the best route. Personally, I don’t take chances on very busy streets that are unavoidable when my child is with me, so I will usually ride a little further if it means I can do so on quiet streets. I live in a city where people routinely talk on the phone in traffic, and though it is illegal to do so, I ride on the sidewalk when it is just not safe to be in the street. I am also an extremely defensive rider. I don’t pass cars that may be turning right across my path, and I am always trying to gauge drivers’ awareness of me. You will feel completely comfortable with it in time, and every bike commuter has their share of incidents, but the best advice for anyone beginning is to take it slowly and exercise caution.
Gear Choices in Transporting Children
Transporting kids on bikes is better now than ever as far as equipment goes. Choosing the right system for you is a personal choice that you should discuss with a knowledgeable bike store employee. R.E.I. actually carries a complete ‘How To’ guide called ‘Bicycling with Children’ that is pretty informative. There are three main options:
Bike Seats - These attach to a rear-mounted rack over the rear wheel. Newer models are safe, inexpensive, and comfortable for kids. The rule of thumb with any model of bike seat or enclosed trailer is that the child be able to sit upright unattended and hold his or her head up while wearing a helmet. Bike seats as a rule can usually carry children up to 40 lbs.
Trailers - These attach either to a seat-post in rear-mounted trailers or to a bottom bracket in side-mounted, or sidecar, trailers. They can be open-air or fully enclosed in inclement weather, and are very comfortable. They require a bit of an adjustment period as they are usually slightly wider than a bike, though they are amazingly light to tow, even up hills. Most brands fold up easily for stowing in a car, convert to strollers, and come in single and double child models. They are fairly expensive but can usually be found on sites like www.craigslist.com for a lot less than retail price, but beware - newer models are much more user-friendly.
Trailer Bikes - Trailer Bikes are one-wheeled bike attachments that usually hitch to the seat-post of your bike, enabling your child to pedal as well. They are sold as a good choice for kids between 3 and 6 years old, though I didn’t feel comfortable with my daughter being on mine until she was about 5 and she still likes to ride on it as a 7 year-old. Trailer bikes allow you to travel at your normal speeds, and I wanted to be certain she was strong enough to hold on if I hit unexpected potholes, etc. They also fold up easily for storage or transportation.
Bike Commuting Websites:
www.runmuki.com/commute/
www.commutebybike.com/
www.kenkifer.com/bikepages/commute/index.htm
Bike Gear Links:
www.rei.com
www.performancebike.com/
www.nashbar.com/
stuffed bear with multiple outfits piled by her bedroom door. “I told you: pajamas, underwear, toothbrush.”; ?>/sustainable-living/green/2008/01/17/uncharted-territory/using_public_transport.jpg” class=”padded-image” alt=”Using Public Transport” align=”left” height=”322″ width=”274″ />For the next hour we negotiate. I don’t let her see what I have stowed in my Defenders of Wildlife backpack: class=”padded-image” maps, first aid kit, rain ponchos, jackets, trail mix, canned fruit, bottled water, lots of cash. In the morning we are planning to travel from Burbank to Long Beach by public transit (with a stop in Hollywood to pick up Molly’s friend Scarlett) and check into the haunted Queen Mary Hotel.<br />
I’m terrified.<br />
Not of the paranormal. I’d afraid of attempting to shepherd two nine-year-olds on a thirty-five mile trip WITHOUT MY CAR. My dear, sweet, loyal, dependable, greenhouse-gas-emitting car, always stocked with emergency blankets, earthquake supplies, clothing, sand toys, and hair accessories. Always ready and eager to help in an emergency.<br />
Lying in bed after midnight I think, “What if one of us really, really has to go to the bathroom, and we have to get off the train and try to find a public restroom in Watts? What if Molly has a horrible ear ache or Scarlett breaks an arm or I have an attack of appendicitis, and we absolutely have to get to a hospital? What if late at night the girls see the bloody severed head of a slaughtered Queen Mary guest floating in mid-air and they cry and scream, desperate to go straight home immediately?”<br />
At breakfast I say to Molly, “Sweetie, I think we’ll just take the car.”<br />
She says, “Excuse me? What about reducing our carbon footprints?”<br />
“Maybe another time.”<br />
“You don’t care about saving the planet?”<br />
“No, no…I mean, yes, …I mean, okay.”<br />
At 9am, packs on our backs, we hoof it to the bus stop. From experience we know the bus comes every hour, more or less. We wait thirty minutes and hop on board for the twenty minute ride to the Universal train station. There we catch the Red Line to Hollywood to pick up Scarlett. I insist everyone use the Ladies Room in the Hollywood/Highland mall.<br />
On the train, the girls sing Avril Lavigne tunes, play Hangman, and gossip about classmates as we rumble along the tracks and on up to street level, heading south through the poorest sections of Los Angeles. We stop to pick up passengers in communities that are virtually invisible from the freeway. Watts. Willowbrook. Compton. We’re the only white folks on the train now.<br />
Heavily tattooed young men sway to the beat of their iPods. Tall, lean fellows in workman’s overhauls board with their bicycles. A grandma, daughter and two-year-old grandchild sit down across from us with blankets and duffel bags. Molly and Scarlett play peek-a-boo with the toddler who squeals with delight.<br />
As we approach Long Beach, I ask Grandma where to get the connecting bus.<br />
“The buses are one block over and they’re all free,” she says with an encouraging grin.<br />
She’s right. Soon we’re on a big purple bus, and the tall, orange smoke stacks of the Queen Mary are coming into view.<br />
We marvel at our stateroom with portholes big enough to jump through. A spooky tour of the haunted swimming pool and the endless maze of stairs and passageways leave us breathless. The next day we take in the nearby Russian submarine and the Aquarium of the Pacific (tickets compliments of the Queen Mary), then board the 5pm train for home. Settling into my seat, I think of the nightmarish traffic I would be battling on the freeway at this hour.<br />
“Where will we go on our next trip?” the girls ask.<br />
I pull out my trusty Metro map.</p>
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Jay Scully - Ecoist
Jay Scully is a Casting Director and father of two in Los Angeles. Originally from New Jersey, Jay is a mid-level weekend warrior in the disciplines of camping, surfing, climbing, mountain biking, trail running, and triathlons. In addition to supporting organizations like The Access Fund, the Pacific Crest Trail Association and The Coral Reef Alliance, he can periodically be seen filling a garbage bag on beach runs.
Tags: bicycling, bike, bike gear, bike seats, school, trailers