Last night I felt energetic and capable on the river ride, a frenetic training ride that has taught Sacramento cyclists to be tough for more than 50 years. I moved slowly but undauntingly to the front of the pack, just a few miles before the final sprint where I would prove myself. If the four-inch deep pothole that nearly knocked my hands off of my bars didn’t cause my flat, then one of the next two that I hit within 10 seconds certainly did. I rode home with my head hung low. I was depressed when I got home until I ran into this video.

Do you remember the first time you learned how to ride a bike? I know I do, and I’m pretty sure it felt something like this kid.