When I was little, I got trampled by two bikes.
I was 4, maybe a little younger, going to the grocery store to pick up a few things for my grandpa. We lived in a very small village in Bulgaria and it was normal to have young kids run errands. Picking up beers or bread from the little corner store and bringing it back in a plastic bag one molecule thick, with that freakish strength small kids have.
I was crossing the street in front of my house, the light golden, a huge tree in our neighbour’s yard shading most of the road. I was just about to step up onto the opposite curb when all of a sudden —
WHALOM
WHALOM
I don’t remember this part too well, but my mom tells me two guys came speeding by on bikes, knocking me over and riding over my knees. They were going very fast and their bikes had no brakes, and I guess I screamed a lot.
My mom was terrified something worse had happened, but with that freakish rubberiness small kids have - I turned out to be fine. Aside from a lot of blood and a scar on my knee you can still faintly see.
It turned me off bikes as I grew up.
This wasn’t helped by the fact that all my bikes were hand-me-downs from my brother, always too big and too awkward to feel comfortable riding. I hated braking because when the bike stopped, my feet couldn’t touch the floor. And I struggled to get back on because the seat was too high, no matter how much it was lowered.
Being on the bike was fun, but that didn’t matter much when I dreaded every time I’d have to stop.
*
I bought my first real bike with my ex-boyfriend. We had barely any money, but we decided to save up so we could buy two bikes and have this be our hobby together. We bought the cheapest bikes we could find on sale at Canadian Tire, and we spent a summer riding around parks and cemeteries (my favourite) and neighbourhood streets. We broke up later that fall.
*
A few weeks ago, I was going to a 5:15am sunrise meditation with a friend.
“Wanna grab bikes and ride over?” he asked me.
Toronto has a bike share program that lets you pick up and return bikes at docks all over the city for really low rates. I’d never tried because the bikes look large and unwieldy, and I remembered how much I’d struggled with my brother’s big bikes. That combined with city riding… it felt like a big no thank you.
But it had been something I’d wanted to try for years and never been brave enough to.
“No one’s gonna be on the streets that early,” my friend said, “and there’s a bike path we’ll take all the way there. I’ll lead and you’ll just follow me.”
So in the not-even-dawn of 5am, I sucked it up and got on a city bike. The seat was low and comfortable, and it wasn’t as bulky as it looked.
There was no one on the streets, and I followed my friend on the bike path for 18 minutes. Every so often he’d look back to make sure I was still behind him, or point down to the ground where there were sticks or potholes or puddles coming up that I couldn’t see.
On the way back, I grabbed an electric bike and zoomed home even faster, thrilled and scared at the speed.
*
Then, one week ago, I rode a bike by myself for the first time in my life.
And then I did it again and again and again and again, using any excuse I could to jump on. Errands, groceries, hang outs, volleyball - every day I’d find somewhere new to go.
I’ve been wanting change and a vacation, that 3 year itch where it feels like things have been stagnant for too long. Do I need a new job, a new home, a new city to live in? The usual thoughts that start circulating in my head on a regular and predictable basis that it feels like only a massive uprooting can fix.
But getting over my fear of biking and falling in love with it has given me exactly that.
It’s given me access to my city in a whole different way - where grabbing groceries suddenly takes half the time, or I can go to places like Evergreen Brickworks for coffee, which before would have taken me hours to do.
It also let me explore streets I’ve never been on. Green fields that look like the countryside, touristy paths down by the water, a trail through a school in the middle of downtown.
It feels like a whole new world has opened up to me. And each day I push it a little further.
So far I have:
Ridden every single day
Put in 100+ km on the bike
Honked at people
Steered with one hand
Ridden with NO hands for THREE seconds
Lifted my legs off the pedals when I rode through puddles so I wouldn’t get wet
Gotten lost
Worn shorts under a dress so I could bike AND look nice
Biked in the rain
Passed slower cyclists in the lane
Stood up on the pedals while riding
All of which seem like really small things on the surface but are really big things to me. I’d been too scared to ride alone before and now I try something new each time I get on.
I learned I need to press more firmly, not less, on the pedals when I go over bumps so my feet don’t fly off. I learned how to stay calm when they DID slip off and I couldn’t immediately find purchase again, the pedals spinning wildly below. I learned how to trust that I could let go, first with one hand… then with two.
I started to understand the system - which streets have bike lanes, what direction they go in, when to watch for advance left turn signals. How to stop for streetcars, pass parked cars, ride downtown when there are no bike lanes.
Everything feels like opportunity and possibility.
Where can I go?
What can I learn?
What am I capable of today that I wasn’t yesterday?
It’s made me curious about how I’ve been defining “fear” and what it’s meant to me.
I think of fear like a hot stovetop - I can feel the heat from a ways off, and no part of me wants to go near it. I want to skirt around its edges and make sure I’m never in a situation where I need to make contact with it. Because contact is pain.
But on the other side of this has been… freedom. Possibility.
And not just in my head. It doesn’t feel like a problem I’ve thought through and come to a reasonable conclusion about. It’s a freedom I can feel in my whole body.
I’d been scared of getting hurt on the bike - falling off, hitting a curb weird and being flung off, getting hit by a car, all of it.
Then a few days ago I rammed a bike into my ankle bone, tearing a whole bunch of skin and a bit of meat off. It hurts like hell when it brushes against my socks or bed sheets when I go to sleep. And all I think of every time I see it is -
WOOHOO!
WOOHOO!
I survived! I survived the fear of being hurt!
Where else can I go?
What else can I learn?
What more am I capable of?
✨
Warmly yours,
Nina
P.S. Do you love biking too? Share a story in the comments, I’m obsessed and wanna hear about your experience.