The Crazy One Wheeler

How could I continue on my quest for writing experiences after what happened last time? After my last "adventure" I needed to lay low for a while, to avoid arousing any suspicions. My parents, who never commented on my swollen ankle or scratched arms, seemed to think it perfectly ordinary as I spent the next few days scribbling down notes in my notebook about my "run-away adventure."
I decided that, rather than embarking on another adventure yet, I should maybe just try something new. Another writing experience... but not as dangerous. I bought a unicycle.
First of all, before I continue, I should share one teensy fact with you. I have a gymnasium built on to my house... yes, a real, athletic gymnasium. It isn't as large as school gyms (about half the size), but it contains a basketball hoop, painted lines on the floor, and cold, white concrete walls. This is where I embarked on my unicycling quest. I spent hours every day struggling to get on the strange one-wheeled contraption. I tried pushing it against the wall, jumping on, throwing it against the wall (not recommended), and screaming.
My bare feet hurt from pressing them hard on the pedals, my legs got covered in black and blue bruises from falling down, and my lungs hurt from screaming in frusteration. It was on my third day of attempting to unicycle that my sister, Kelly, came down the stairs into the gymnasium. Her face was red and sweaty from playing soccer outside, and pulled back in her typical too-tight ponytail.
"You look... annoyed." She said cautiously.
"Yah because this stupid unicycle is impossible to ride!" I yelled, kicking the thing.
"Maybe I could help..?" She suggested.
I spent the next few days with my sister's help, as she supported my own arm and I lurched around on the pedals, feeling like the seat would fly out from under me at any minute. Why was I learning to ride a unicycle? Should I just give up? I decided unicycling was a neccessity if I wanted to be adventurous.
Before I knew it I was unicycling like a pro with the local Unicycling Club and guess who else unicycled with me? My brother and sister (of course, if I ever did something cool, they had to copy me). It wasn't until a little while later, when we'd perfected the art of riding unicycles on our stomachs and riding backwards on seven-foot-high Giraffe Unicycles that something very interesting happened.