On a bright May morning, I made a promise to my 6-year-old self. I was tired of all the scraped knees. I was finished picking gravel out of my hands. And, being the eldest son, I had to make sure that my younger brother did not show me up. As I finished my breakfast, I took the most sacred vow of my young life: by the end of the summer, I would get rid of my training wheels and ride my bike like it was meant to be ridden—on two wheels.

Over the next three months, I logged more hours on my Huffy than most CPAs put in at the office during tax season. Through everything that a Pennsylvania summer had to offer, from 100° heat, blaring sun and 100% humidity to powerful thunderstorms and screaming winds, I endured it all. My goal was set and nothing was going to stand in my way. By August, I felt that I could not practice for one more minute. All of my energy had been honed and focused over the last few months toward this final test. I was ready.

The first time I tried to ride without my training wheels was a disaster. I managed to make it a mere five feet before falling face-first onto the searing asphalt. A little worse for wear, but full of fortitude I got up, brushed myself off and got back on my bike. I was not about to let one fall stop me. Not surprisingly, though, that one fall quickly turned into two, then three, then four. The rest of my afternoon was spent in much the same way. By the end of the evening, I had become completely disheartened and was ready to throw in the towel. I had spent a whole afternoon practicing and to what end? I had nothing to show for it but some nasty road rash and a pair of torn jeans. I reluctantly told myself that I would try one more time before I gave up for the day. And that is when it happened.

I remember that moment to this very day. It was as if something finally clicked inside of me. After all of the effort, all the pain and frustration, I had finally done it. I was riding on two wheels! The adrenaline pumped through me; I had never been more excited. As the wind blew slowly over my face, I let out a cheerful yell. Looking back on that day, I realize that riding my bike was not the only thing I learned that summer. I also learned that practice does indeed make perfect, a truth that holds for all aspects of life.

Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, also realized the importance of practice and, like my parents, he realized the value of having a set of training wheels to guide this practice. One set of training wheels that he provided for practice are the five moral precepts. These precepts are both very basic and widely applicable. Providing this type of system gave lay practitioners the ability to live in accordance with the precepts in their daily lives and gain the benefits of practice without having to take the more drastic vows of a monastic.