Then you don’t ride the brakes and you’re to be commended.
Your post reminds me ...
I had a back surgery that left my leg paralyzed. I desperately wanted my leg back so I chucked the walker and held onto ... for dear life ... to the walls and furniture. I dragged it around and threatened to remove it myself every single day.
My then mother-in-law was in my driveway when I pulled up one day. She screamed, “What do you think you’re doing?!? How are you driving?!?”
“The same as always, Mom: with my right foot.”
(I loved my MIL dearly and she meant the best when she asked the question.” And God healed my leg, btw, almost completely.)