theSmudge.com

After two years, much angst and an incident involving a wine barrel planter, I tweeted this Sunday:

In fact, I managed to ride another nine miles without falling over, despite multiple stops/unclipping for intersections and rambunctious children on the bike path. To say that I was relieved is putting it mildly.

It only took me 26 years of bike riding (excluding the Big Wheel mentioned in that Facebook post) to reach this point. In the meantime I’ve learned to drive a manual transmission, climbed Half Dome, run seven marathons, ended relationships, jumped out of an airplane, been Tasered and who knows what else. But being clipped to a bike? Nope. No way. That was not gonna happen.

You see, I have a very strong fear of falling. It’s so strong that I never enjoyed rollerblading, and I finally gave away my rollerblades in my last move. I love going up to high places and looking down, and skydiving was awesome. Somehow, those situations feel more controlled. Falling over on a bike because I’m stuck in some pedals? That’s not controlled. And I just really don’t like banging into the ground.

In my teens, I used to ride my bike up and down hills until the sun began to set. I’d have a 360-degree view involving a 14,000-foot mountain, a lake, a golf course and many hills. I would write cheesy, horrible poetry about the sunset, then zoom back down and up hills before it was too dark to see my way home. Shifting gears was no big deal, but I’d never even heard of clipless pedals until later in life. The idea terrified me — voluntarily strapping myself to a metal bike and hearing things like, “You’ll only fall a few times”?! No. I fear falling, so why would I intentionally increase my odds of falling?

But I do like speed. The only law I break is the speed limit. You know those electronic speed indicator signs? I try to beat those on my bike. And I’ve known for a while that the evil pedals would make me faster. Nearly two years ago, I found a couple sales and bought the pedals and shoes. When all of my running plans went up in smoke due to a stress fracture in my shin, I figured it was time to bike more frequently. So I got the pedals put on my bike, then propped myself between my car and my garage wall. I clipped and unclipped each foot 100 times. Then I tried my backyard, because people had told me to start on grass. That did not work at all, because I couldn’t gain momentum or traction, and I promptly fell over.

However, I was determined. I went out to my driveway, clipped one foot in, rode around the cul-de-sac, got the other foot clipped in, and it wasn’t too bad. I rode up my driveway, trying to unclip and getting extremely stressed out. I managed to unclip, but then I leaned tried to put the wrong foot on the ground — toward the foot that was still clipped in. I fell over into a wine barrel planter, whacking my leg one inch from my stress fracture point.

That was it. If bike pedals were going to compromise my running, I was done. I hate failing, but I also hate falling, and I was not about to risk further damage to my legs.

But that failure has always rankled. A few months ago, I started thinking about trying the pedals again. So I went out on my bike and began making a conscious effort to always put the same foot down when coming to a stop. I had (loose) cages on my pedals and those were no problem, so this was progress. Last weekend, I rode 47 miles, my longest ride ever by two miles. The hills sucked all my energy, and I knew they would be ever so slightly easier with clips.

Sunday was The Day. I put my clip pedals and shoes into a bag, got on my bike, then rode 1.8 miles to a local bike shop. I forced myself to walk into the shop. Believe me, this took willpower. In no time at all, those death-inducing pedals were fastened to my bike. In the meantime, I’d put on the bike shoes. I knew that if I rode home in my other shoes, I would chicken out of actually riding in the clips. No matter what, I had to make it back 1.8 miles home.

And I did it. I was a bit terrified; that fear of falling was incredibly strong. I’d also neglected to wear gloves, so I was even more freaked out about hurting my hands. After all, one is still not quite fully recovered from an October fall — one that did not involve me being strapped to a metal bicycle.

I’d previously formed a plan: If I made it home in one piece, I was going to drop off my bag of old pedals/shoes, pick up a pre-filled water bottle, and head back out immediately before I could wimp out. I stuck to the plan. Then I proceeded to ride another 9 miles without incident. I clipped and unclipped. I did it as many times as possible, but I also picked up some speed in between, just to remind myself that bicycling is fun when going faster.

That ride did the trick. I’m still terrified of falling, and I don’t think that will ever change. But when I think of those pedals, I no longer feel dread. I don’t fear them anymore. In fact, I want to get out there on them again. I want to ride longer and further and faster. For months now, I’ve had this idea of someday riding 100 miles. I’m one step closer to doing that, and it feels so good.