Ready To Get Back On The Bike?

​I had cycle-phobia. Where I live in Bend, the roads are packed with bike riders, some of them fit and sporty, some of them old ladies riding curiously fast on e-bikes. I’ve been stressed out watching them. I try not to hit them with my Jeep. I curse at them under my breath when they swerve into traffic.

I’ve felt so nervous about all the bikes that I said to Jim the other day “Bike riding is dangerous. Maybe I’m too old to ride”.  ​

When I was a kid, bike riding was my life. I rode all over my SoCal beach town on a pink stingray. Over to Wylie Schuler’s to see gopher snakes for sale in his garage. To Mayfair Market on Ashwood to get TP for another attack on Robin Biller’s house. 

Even my crises were bike related. When I was in 5th grade, I crashed my bike with Suzie Frazier on the back. Not a small thing. I was breaking the No Riding Double Rule. Suzie broke her thumb. I got stitches on my chin. 

“Don’t worry, I know how to ride,” I said, right before we both flew over the handlebars.

Even after that unfortunate crash, I spent years riding my bike. I rode up the Pacific Coast Highway when I lived in Santa Cruz. My best friend Linda and I often rode our bikes from the suburbs into Minneapolis on well-tended bike lanes. Jim and I tucked our kids in bed on Saturday nights and rode to a local bar called Redstone. We hid our helmets in the bushes outside and danced in the humid air until closing. It felt good to be free as young(ish) parents. 

Bikes were a ticket to freedom.

But when we moved to Oregon, bike riding somehow seemed threatening. The “bike paths” in Bend are one line of white paint on the side of the road. The streets are full of tourists headed to the next brewery. I chose walking over biking. 

Until a few days ago, I didn’t get on a bike. I was more secure on my own two feet. 

Last weekend, Jim and I took a getaway in Sisters, a town nearby. You might’ve seen my post about that. We stayed two nights in a bunkhouse that was in a barn on a beautiful farm. It was magical. 

There were bikes and helmets in that barn. We decided to ride into town. 

At first, I was a bit apprehensive. But as we found our way over the trails and through the break in the fence, I gained confidence. Eventually, we were on Highway 20. Semi-trucks flew by. So did Toyota Tundra trucks pulling 25 foot long trailers. We rode alongside them in the tiny bike lane - a single line of white paint on the busy highway.

For some reason, when we arrived in downtown Sisters, all my fears were gone. 
I was back on the bike and it felt amazing! 

We got coffee at Hop & Brew (decaf whole milk latte for me, mocha for him) and a delicious BLT sandwich without the bread. 

We drove home to our barn bunkhouse tired but happy. I was shocked to realize how much I enjoyed the ride - and how silly I’d been to let some misplaced anxiety about other people’s behavior keep me from doing what I love. 

I’m back on my bike. Not too old. Not too scared. In fact, Jim and I are in the market for two used trail bikes now. If you know anyone who has bikes for sale, hit me up.

If you’re a woman who lacks confidence, who maybe thinks you’re “too old to ride," hit me up. We should totally talk.