If You Need Balance in Your Life, Learn to Ride a Unicycle

Today’s crazy, pandemic and Trumpian world goes round and round and often leaves us upside down. Regain your balance with a unicycle as I did one magic Christmas.

When it was my turn among the siblings, I scoured the dogeared pages of Sears, JCPenney, Montgomery Ward Christmas catalogs for my oh so special gift.

I got the idea after watching an older teenage boy ride a unicycle down our street in the fall and I fell in love at first sight. With the unicycle, not the boy. Although the boy was groovy; he could ride a unicycle and I am pretty sure I had seen him play guitar in a garage boy band close to my friend Julie’s house.

Although I was just 12, 1970 was the third decade I had been around for. I was older and wiser. You could see my wise-ness by the potential present I had scrawled on my Christmas wish list along with noting the catalog and page number.

To be certain, this year, I wouldn’t make the same mistake as I had in 1967’s Christmas where I asked for, and did not receive, a plastic machine gun with a tripod to play “army” with my brothers out in the woods near our lake cottage. Or Christmas 1968 when I asked for, and did receive, a steel guitar to play in my classmate’s basement girl band for two Saturdays in January.

Based on my wish history, Mom and Dad were amused to find the unicycle and catalog page number as the single entry on my list.

That Christmas Eve, I could barely breathe as I unwrapped my big gift and saw the box with a picture of my unicycle on it.

I yelled and jumped with joy. My brothers and sisters watched and giggled. Sure, over the years we had unwrapped a bike, a trike, a tractor and two horses—a wooden rocking bronco and a plastic steed with wheels, but never a unicycle.

As soon as we all helped stash the wrapping paper from our toys and new pajamas in the garbage, Dad sat down on the front room floor next to “the most beautiful Christmas tree ever.” (Every year the tree was the most beautiful ever according to our parents.) Like a gifted surgeon, he rolled up his sleeves and called confidently for his handy screwdriver and trusty crescent wrench to be placed by his side.

I bolted to the basement to grab the tools and deliver them to him. While I was gone, Dad had emptied the JCPenney box and spread out the elements of my magnificent possession.

Moments ticked by while Dad read the assembly instructions, and I began bouncing on one foot and then the other like a full-bladdered Ginger Rogers, hoping my hopping would improve Dad’s mechanical skill and accelerate his execution.

What seemed like forever, Dad finally put the unicycle together.

I grabbed my unicycle and put my left foot on the left pedal. When I raised my right foot with the intention of placing it on the right pedal, the unicycle scooted out behind me and I did a face plant into the couch. Good thing it was the couch, because in those days no helmets were required for any risky physical endeavor.

While my siblings shrieked in laughter, Dad plucked me from the couch and Teddy picked up my unicycle.

“Hold on Judi,” Dad said. “This isn’t like a bike.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said quickly, breathlessly. “The seat has no front or back. And no handlebars, no brakes.”

“That’s right. But beyond that, you must learn to balance in all directions, not just side to side like you do on a bike,” Dad explained as my brothers and sisters continued to giggle.

“Kids, quiet down. And yes, Judi, listen to your father,” Mom added. “This is going to take practice to learn to ride it and you have to be careful that you don’t hurt yourself.”

I took a big breath.

Of course, Mom and Dad were right. I couldn’t just hop on it and begin to ride. I stared at my unicycle and remembered all too well my conviction in 1968.

Way back then, I thought that I could pick up my brand-new steel guitar and magically teach myself to play right there on the spot.

Truth be told, I wasn’t the only Catholic girl who held the faith of savant abilities. My friends Rita and Cathy wholeheartedly believed that the three of us would be brilliant when we formed our basement girl band with my steel guitar, Rita’s new drums and Cathy’s new clarinet.

We lasted only lasted two Saturdays before we lost our faith, and realized we sounded awful with no seeable path or commitment to learn to play our instruments.

But Christmas Eve 1970, tears welled up in my eyes when I realized learning to ride my unicycle was not going to be easy.

Dad’s eyes sparkled and he chuckled. It was decades before Google was invented to give us instant access to “how to”s. So that night Dad merely used his common sense to help his crestfallen, couch-fallen daughter learn to ride her new present.

“Don’t worry, we will figure it out,” he said kindly. “Let’s take the unicycle into your bedroom where you can learn first to sit on it before you try to ride it.”

“Oh but Ted, there are hardware floors in there,” Mom said.

“That’s alright, we can buff out any tread marks she makes,” Dad said.

“I was thinking more about if she falls again,” Mom answered dryly.

“Oh, she’ll hold on tight to the upper bed frame of the bunk bed and use it to help her learn to balance,” Dad said.

“You’ll be fine, won’t you?” he said to me.

I nodded affirmatively and ran down the hall to Connie’s and my bedroom.

That night until Mom and Dad made us go to sleep, I practiced with Dad’s help while I gripped the metal frame of the upper bunk. He had me place my left pedal at the bottom or 6 o’clock position so that I could put my left foot on it and shakily and sometimes successfully sit on the unicycle.

I practiced sitting on the unicycle next to my bunk bed throughout the holiday school break, and at night and on weekends through the winter and into spring. When the ice finally melted from the driveway, I ran outside with my unicycle and mounted it while holding on to the side of our car.

There I learned to ride down the driveway holding on to the car. One day I rode past the car and pedaled a few feet with nothing to hold on to.

From there, I learned to make turns, to go up and down small curbs, to dribble a basketball while unicycling, and to even hold somewhat in place by modulating the pedals back and forth.

Dad had been right that Christmas Eve when he said I needed to learn to balance in all directions not just the narrow right and left balance you need to ride a bike.

And, like riding a bike, once you learn how you never forget. That feeling of a 360-degree balance has stayed with me and helped me in my work and life to see things from different angles, to consider creative ways to gain or regain balance, and to put in the time to make a breakthrough.

So there is my life lesson for this week. If you are in need of regaining your balance in today’s topsy-turvy world, learn to ride a unicycle.

And wear a helmet.

Or bring a couch.