story and illustration by KAM REDLAWSK
From birth we are meant to go through a series of milestones that exemplify growth, such as crawling, speaking, walking, running and riding a bike. I don’t really remember my first steps or first words; in fact, as someone adopted from Korea, there are very few glimmers of my life that I remember before coming to America in 1983. But one of my most memorable milestones as a child was the very first time I successfully rode a bike without training wheels.
I remember this particular day, the hue of the sky and the gentle push of the wind, as I did my best to ride a bike. I had been practicing all day in my driveway. Dusk was soon approaching, and my father had suggested we call it a day and perhaps try again another day, but I wanted to keep at it. I circled the driveway trying to stay on my bike for at least a few consecutive minutes. I kept falling and getting back up and falling again.
The falls frustrated me and yet only lent to my determination. The neighborhood was quiet—it was just me and my bike. I remember that bike vividly, with a banana seat and colored streamers hanging from the handlebars. I practiced and practiced until my body finally memorized the steps. It required balance, it required careful thought, pedaling, steering and aligning myself to the bike. And, then I did it. I began riding in consecutive circles without a single fall. Riding a bike soon became second nature.
Now, at age 34, however, these things I once knew and dearly loved have suddenly become confusing to me. I am now the confused child again, except no amount of practice will garner me a victorious lap around that driveway again. Riding a bike, along with a list of other things, is now beyond my capacity, but still fresh enough in my memory to cause me to miss it.
It is the loss of something that can trigger our true understanding and appreciation of its full beauty.
There are so many things we do throughout the day to which we never give a second thought. There are beyond miraculous things happening inside us every second of the day. The complexity of the body and its orchestrated mobility are amazing. It takes 26 muscles to smile, 62 muscles to frown, 34 muscles to move a finger and 200 muscles to take a single step. When I moved to California, I began collecting a group of adventurous guy friends who were very much into being active. They were always biking, out in nature and spontaneous types that thrived in unplanned situations. I was very drawn to this, drawn to those who truly appreciate their bodies, and it greatly influenced my perspective on how to live. Today, I’m much more adventurous and broad-thinking. I put myself into new situations, and even though I may be scared or unsure, I push myself into living life as much as possible.
Those friends and I began a grassroots project, Bike for Kam. Four years ago we began biking coasts to raise awareness and funds for my rare condition, HIBM, and this year we are at it again. We invite all who love to bike to join us this year from May 31-June 1. We have biked from San Francisco to Los Angeles in the past, and this year we will be biking from Los Angeles to San Diego for the second time. Please visit www.bikeforkam.com for more information, and consider riding with us!
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Kam Redlawsk’s column runs every other month. To read more from Kam, visit greengreengrass.typepad.com or her official Facebook page.
This article was published in the March 2014 issue of KoreAm. Subscribe today! To purchase a single issue copy of the March issue, click the “Buy Now” button below. (U.S. customers only. Expect delivery in 5-7 business days).
