Biking and 'The Incident'
I get nervous about new things. I greatly fear change. In fact, I'm very 'Rainman' when it comes to new things, new people, new places. Complete with swaying, head-banging, and repeating phrases over and over. Well, maybe not the head-banging. Definitely, definitely not the head-banging.

I'm obsessed with road-biking. Which is funny because up until a couple of months ago, I only owned a mountain bike. So I'm not sure the past few years of riding my mountain bike on the road technically qualified as road-biking.

However, in training for the 100-mile ride I have planned in a few months, I decided to get properly prepared for it. This meant a complete equipment change. I bought an actual roadbike designed for use on pavement, and all the necessary equipment to make me look and function like more of a professional road-biker. I figure if I look like a professional, that definitely makes me a professional.

Part of this new equipment involves new pedals. They are technically called 'clip-less' pedals, but that is completely misleading. These pedals actually do 'clip' or attach your shoe to the pedal. Why this is considered 'clip-less' is just silly. All I know is now my feet are attached to the pedal while I ride, and it's a whole new weird scary experience. Yes, definitely, definitely scary.

I've been riding inside on my trainer for several months. I've had plenty of practice getting in and out of the pedals. It's a simple heel twist outwards, and voila! I'm free from the pedals. Simple, when the bike is, well, still. Not moving. I never fall at all inside! Getting on and off is very, very non-scary. I am tremendously confident in my cycling skills, indoors. Outdoors and while moving, that's a whole different challenge.

This weekend, the weather outside cooperated with my biking hobby. The temperature was warm enough to be outside, and there was no rain to deal with. A perfect opportunity to take the bike outside for the maiden outdoor voyage. I was really excited about it . . . til Saturday morning. Then I got very, very scared. I started having flashbacks of 'The Incident'. (scary, dramatic dum-dum-dummmmmm music heard here)

'The Incident', as I hatefully label the event, happened several years ago. I'd recently discovered the art of cycling at that time, and also discovered it was something I really enjoy. I could often be found clunking around on the mountain bike, although always on a paved trail or street. No off-roading on the mountain bike. But having tons of fun, nonetheless. Until, 'The Incident'.

Danger for bikers comes in many forms, such as on-coming cars, other bikers, families wandering aimlessly, small children, wild dogs, search posses on horseback, tanks, rampant bears, or even stationary trees. These are real and possible threats while biking along a suburban city paved bike and hike trail. However, 'The Incident' involved a much more dangerous and unexpected terror: old people.

I was heading home on my bike, along a very busy road. As mentioned before, on-coming cars are one of the known dangers. And, knowing this danger, I preferred to take my short trip on this section of road by using the sidewalk. Technically, bikes don't belong on a sidewalk. But I made an exception for this very tiny stretch of road, along this particularly treacherously dangerous, high-traffic road. It's a very wide sidewalk. Safe enough to be shared by walkers and bikers alike.

Or so I thought. I under-estimated the safety zone needed for very slow-walking old people. I soon found out that they require more room than was provided on this particularly wide sidewalk. I was doing my usual excellent safety inspections of the road ahead of me, making sure to look far enough ahead to avoid any danger. I spotted the old people, and planned to 'offroad' into the grass, being thankful to have such a rugged mountain bike for the offroad terrain, then return to the sidewalk once I was safely around them.

As the old people very slowly approached, I moved off into the grass. I had slowed down, so as not to frighten them. I made my way past the old folks, and moved back towards the sidewalk, only to discover that I was deceived by the height of the grass. Where I thought I was level with the pavement, my tire caught the edge of the sidewalk in a dip hidden by the tall grass. This caused me to unwillingly stop dead in my tracks, and immediately slam over onto the pavement, with great force. I was flat out on the pavement before I could even realize what was happening, bike on top of me, legs and arms sticking out everywhere, massive amounts of pain suddenly all I could feel.

I was stunned. It took a moment to realize what had happened, that I was no longer floating along on my bike, care-free. I was now bruised and bleeding all over the sidewalk, which was supposed to be the 'safe' place to be. Fortunately, the old folks came out unscathed. And in fact, they didn't even stop to turn around and see what the commotion was about. Little did they know I'd just saved their life. I was now horribly crippled and mangled, but the old people were, in fact, safe and moving slowly on their way. I blame them completely for the fall.

I finally scraped myself up off the sidewalk and noticed my bike was as horribly disfigured as I was. I limped home, dragging the bike along beside me. My injuries left me unable to ride for about six weeks, doctor's orders. It was a thoroughly traumatic experience, known forevermore as 'The Incident'.

It came back to haunt me this weekend, as I decided to venture out onto the street. I haven't fallen since 'The Incident', but these new clip-less pedals provided a new obstacle in remaining seated upright on the bike. The pedals were a change in my typical riding paraphernalia that caused me to fear the possiblities associated with this change. The possibilities included another fall. And pavement is very, very hard. Much harder than, say, my carpet in my home where I'd grown to love my new bike. I was very, very nervous to venture out of doors on the bike.

I procrastinated as long as I could, then finally packed the bike into the Jeep and headed to the lake to ride the trail there. I have to say, I looked great, arriving in my Jeep, with my shiney new bike, and all the right gear to do this thing right. I confidently unloaded the bike, suited up, and swung my leg over the bike to get rolling. I looked around to make sure the way was clear. . . especially clear of old people.

I was detemined not to fall on my first trip out. I needed to set the bar with my confidence level for future rides, plus not look like an idiot who has never biked before. If the pedals, or old people, caused me to fall, it could scar me from biking for life.

It took a couple of tries, but I finally got moving and hooked into the pedals. After a few minutes, I realized I was having a lot of fun! I was cautious my first time around the lake. The road bike allows me to go faster than I could on the mountain bike, so I made sure not to overdo it going down the larger hills. It took awhile to get used to the differences in riding the roadbike, but I soon relaxed and concentrated on all the important pedaling and biking stuff I'd been practicing indoors. WOO-HOO, was I having fun!

I enjoyed the first trip around the lake so much, I went around again. And I'm proud to say, I never fell.

I passed the mental challenge of the first ride. I successfully conquered a new experience. I overcame the curse of 'The Incident'. I can learn to love old people again.

Definitely, definitely learn. . .

C.T.