First You Gotta Be Bad at It

I recently bought my cautious 5-year-old his first bike with training wheels. His first attempt at riding didn’t go well. He struggled for two main reasons: first, he was desperate not to make any mistakes and second, he was afraid of falling and getting hurt.

He couldn’t quite get the rhythm of pedaling and ended up pressing both feet down at once, which accidentally activated the brakes. When he did start moving, he lost his balance on sidewalk slopes and fell. What was supposed to be a simple bike ride ended with him in tears and swearing off bikes forever.

Reflecting on that moment, I realized I had expected him to learn purely through trial and error—without guidance or preparation. That expectation set him up for failure. So, a few days later, we tried again.

This time, we started with the basics. I had him practice the pedaling motion while standing still so he could get a feel for it. More importantly, I gave him a new expectation: be bad at it. I explained that nobody starts out good at something, and that struggling is part of learning.

As we rode down the street, every time he accidentally hit the brakes or lost his rhythm, we said together, “First you gotta be bad at it, and then you learn.”

 With each repetition, I could see his confidence growing.

Then we hit another sidewalk slope. He fell, and it really scared him. He got hurt, and as I comforted him, he said he was afraid to ride again. He was scared he might fall and get hurt—or even die. I reassured him that his helmet was there to protect him and that while falling can hurt and feel scary, it wouldn’t be fatal. I told him that we can learn from the hurt. His beautiful, young mind understood that “even if I fall, I’ll just cry because it hurts.” 

That clicked with him, and he got back on the bike.

Eventually, we found a flat, empty basketball court. There, he rode in wide circles, practicing his new skill. As he pedaled, he started loudly repeating the mantras we’d practiced:

  • “First you gotta be bad at it, and then you learn.”
  • “Even if I fall, I’ll just cry because it hurts.”
  • “I can keep practicing.”

Hearing those words from his little voice stopped me in my tracks. They weren’t just lessons for him—they were lessons for me, too.

When I anticipate pain, I often treat it as catastrophic. I shrink back from asking for help or put impossible pressure on myself to never make mistakes. But that little voice reminded me:

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel hurt. 

As we rode together, he repeated again and again, “First you gotta be bad at it, and then you learn.”

And I realized how often I forget that. I place shame-filled expectations on myself to get everything right the first time. But the truth is, being bad at something is an essential step in getting better.

Life is full of pain, fear, shame, and failure. But none of those things are the end of the story. We get to cry if we need to. We get to keep trying. We get to keep learning.

These days, my 5-year-old still gets nervous when he falls or makes a mistake—but now, our reminders help him keep going. And they help me keep going too.

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Author

Therapist Matthew Benson standing outside in a blue sweater.
Matthew Benson

LMFT

(480) 203-2881
8737 E. Via De Commercio, Suite 200 Scottsdale, Arizona 85258