Fear of falling

I haven’t gotten on the bike since the Ride of the Century. It’s been too rainy or windy or both. I’m not looking for more suffering. Getting back on the bike after a ride like that is a little like getting back on the proverbial horse.

But I will. Maybe tomorrow.

I had to overcome some fear to do the ride at all. Of what, exactly, I’m not sure. Fear of pain? Chill? Collapse? I have a real fear around biking that didn’t figure in the century ride, but it does have a role in my next biking goal. That is the fear of falling.

My next goal is to get a serious bike, a road bike, equipped with the pedals that clip onto special shoes. I want to keep up with Vic especially up the hills. Vic’s road bike is 30 years old. He is going to get a new one next spring, so I will really trail him if I keep riding a hybrid.

And I don’t like the tandem idea. Too much opportunity for conflict.

The road bike decision, however, presents some challenges. My current bike has stirrups on the pedals and I fell a few times, not seriously, when I was getting used to them. Most people who get the shoes also take a few spills when they’re learning. Add to this the hazard of getting used to a new, lighter-weight, speedier bike with more sensitive brakes and the likelihood of at least a fall or two increases. This is a big deal for me because I am not young. I do not like the idea of falling at all. 

I tried out a road bike once 10 years ago. It was at the beginning of a biking vacation in the Canadian Gulf Islands with Bicycle Adventures. We were choosing our wheels in a Victoria, BC parking lot at the beginning of the tour. I had reserved a hybrid but was feeling adventurous and said I’d like to try a road bike.

I mounted the bike and began rolling down an incline a lot faster than I expected. I grabbed the brakes and they responded more strongly than I expected. I pitched right over the handlebars and landed on my face on the asphalt.

I got right back on a bike that time—but not that bike. I did the weeklong trip on a stable, plodding hybrid, huffing and puffing up the hills with scraped knees, bruised legs, and a large band-aid on my very fat lip. It was the only serious fall I’ve ever taken. The scar on my upper lip is concealed now among the fine lines of age, a caution about taking risks for which I am not prepared.

The twinge of fear about the century was just enough to keep me faithful in my training. I wanted to be really well prepared. Now I want a road bike but I know I have to prepare. I will need to overcome the fear of falling, maybe by anticipating falls but doing everything possible to prevent them.