It's all part of this well-ness campaign and a pressing need to teach children to ride bikes. A fine Monday public holiday, a bit of a lie-in, late breakfast, a few loads of washing and we're off to Stromlo Forest Park, a custom-built cycle track for children which hooks up to an international standard mountain bike trail. It is set in the western edge of Canberra where fires denuded the landscape about eight years ago, so the setting is sparse of trees, but the facilities are excellent and it's perfect for learner riders.
Helmuts clasped on, the girls take off confidently, but Ro-Ro, who unfortunately has a bike one size too small and peddles rather like a circus clown, is not enthused by this adventure. At first his hands are sore from the handle bars and then his poor, decrepid, seven-year-old, knees hurt. This is, of course, a try-on and I can see him thinking that the whole exercise is a monumental hoax. Whoever is going to need to ride a bike when you can be chauffeur driven? What sort of exercise is this without a ball... or a bat? Why are we riding about in circles? This process, I fear, will take some perseverance.
Go girls!
Go Ro!
There is also a grassed, one kilometre running track upon which we went for a saunter/jog. There they go!
I took up the rear and did a few slow laps. Metaphorical stop-watch and whistle at the ready. A wide grassy expanse, dam in the middle and views of hills and dales in all directions. There's Black Mountain Tower in the distance
I make a fine coach.
Little Wanna, showing all the signs of becoming a stylish, independent-minded, modern miss, asked, "Is my hair ruined?" as she took off her helmet. Hmmm. We may not be collecting many ribbons on sports day I suspect.
