Opinion Column by MariellaVirgillito

I was handed a box wrapped in illuminating pink paper. I reach my hand anxiously and sit glassy-eyed. I grab the object and sit quietly trying to understand why I was given a stiff pink helmet, but nothing to ride. Everyone laughed at my perplexion until I was led to the garage where there sat the most dazzling bike I have ever seen. In its pinkalicious glory, I hop on without knowing how to ride.

My neighborhood friends and I wait at the top of the hill. Ringing our bells and waiting for the mark. And we’re off! Racing through the wind, we pedal until we grip for dear life. With each rotation of my dainty legs, I build momentum. That sense of forward motion is exhilarating and empowering. Each push adds to another, replicating the sense of accomplishment as I discover my potential and find purpose in my love for medicine. It’s a tangible representation that consistent effort prompts results, relating not only to my personal evolution, but also the way I picture the world.

As I glide through the breeze, unbothered by the constraints of my suburban Nebraska driveway, I experience a taste of liberation. The feeling of being eccentric in the wind, and the sense of freedom that comes with riding a bike, is parallel to the desire for independence that I often feel. Each stride of my pedal added to the freedom I longed for, something I wished for during the transition into my adulthood: dying to make my own choices, pursue my passions, and chart my course. Riding a bike taught me that independence is gained through responsibility and a willingness to embrace challenges.

However, alongside the thrill of momentum and freedom comes the inevitable experience of failure. I crashed and scraped my knees across the pavement. The sting as hydrogen peroxide sprayed on my wounds was something every kid is told won’t burn, but it does. Of course, I put on that Disney-themed BAND-AID and hop back on my little pink bike. Resilience is what led to recovery. 

These moments are essential for my growth, teaching me grit, humility, and the importance of getting back up and facing the anxiety of crashing again. Failure, whether riding a bike or facing life’s challenges, is a period that encourages me to develop courage. It’s a reminder that my obstacles do not define me; they are the treacherous hills that leave room for opportunities to learn and become better versions of myself.

 Learning how to ride a bike is a rite of passage. It’s not just about mastering the mechanics of balance and speed; it’s a journey that mirrors growing up. As I wobbled and stumbled with someone gripping the pink seat, I discovered the power of momentum, the thrill of independence and resilience forged through failure, which echo deeply within my winds of life. The lessons learned from those early bike rides are evidence in my ability to adapt, persevere, and find joy in the journey. Just as I learned to ride a bike, I must find my balance amidst the shifting winds and terrain. 

In a world that often feels fickle, the juvenile act of learning to ride a bike reminds me of the principles that drive me. As I ride, I carry these lessons with me, darting through the winds of change, confident in my ability to overcome and embrace life. Even if my momentum and drive decelerate, I learn again. I pick up right where I left off. As they say, it’s like riding a bike.