Trial training | The little ones

How convenient it is to have children, I think to myself on this Saturday morning, as I stand on the terrace in full racing bike gear, sipping my teacup once more. A nightingale is chirping, the sky is a brilliant blue, perfect conditions for my first cycling training session, and my eldest is crouching next to me, changing the inner tube of the front tire on the smart white racing bike I'm about to use for the 40-kilometer ride out to Wandlitz and back: a flat tire, just as I've pushed the bike out of the shed. "Let me fix it, I'll fix it, it'll be faster that way," he says.

My son is 31 and a road bike nerd. He owns two vintage bikes, a gravel bike, and two racing machines. They hang on the wall in his apartment. He clocks up hundreds of kilometers every week on his rides in the Berlin area. For my triathlon plan, he quickly put together a set of gear from his stash: a sleek aluminum bike with a carbon fork. Clipless pedals. Road bike shoes with carbon soles. Plus a helmet, road bike shorts, and a jersey. I learn that my gear is worth almost €3,000 when new. He can just rent it out? Wow.

Today he wants to introduce me to the intricacies of road cycling on a ride together. But first, I have to go down a side street with him to learn how to clip into the clipless pedal with my carbon shoe. I taught him how to ride a bike 28 years ago, and now he's standing grinning on the side while I'm the one weaving around – trying to finally clip the cleat into the stupid pedal: "The pedal the other way around!" he calls patiently. "Put the toe in, then push down!"

After 15 minutes, I'm halfway able to do it, and he tells me never, ever to forget to release the pedal when I come to a stop. "Never! Otherwise you'll fall over like a tree!" he says, then waves a dismissive hand: "But it'll probably happen to you sometime. It happens to everyone, really!" Great! How hard when you have kids.

On the bike path out of town, I initially proceed cautiously: The seating position is extremely low, and every bump is felt like a shock, even though the firmly fixed shoes and the lightweight bike still allow me to travel quickly. Whenever we approach a red light, my eldest, who's riding behind me, reminds me to pedal: "Disengage, Dad!"

At some point, we're on the country road, rolling along. The wind cools my heated face, the surrounding forest is a green shimmer, and I'm in the biker's high: How wonderful it is to cycle fast! On a climb, I briefly lose my son's rear wheel as he rides away from me without noticing. I groan.

In the end, we finished 41.65 kilometers in 1:41:20 hours – that's the time it takes professionals to complete a full triathlon, all three disciplines, oh my goodness! Before I can even begin to complain, my son pats me on the shoulder: "Completed the whole course, great, Dad!" How wonderful it is to have children.