Stumbled onto cycling

 

There is a saying that we use when we mean to say that something is second nature; ‘it’s like riding a bike’. Supposedly, no matter how many years pass that you have traded in your bike for an exercise-free alternative, you should still be able to ride one without having to put much thought into the process. Naturally, it is a quote I have never understood as I never learnt to ride one.

I am a child of three, the youngest by a large difference and I think bike-riding lessons got kind of lost in the mix. It’s fine, I did learn how to binge watch Friends much earlier than anyone else, a skill that comes in a lot more useful a lot more frequently, I find. But there were instances that my lack of cycling knowledge brought me shame. There was that one time in a national Scouts Gymboree that we were all asked to ride a bike as if it were the most natural thing in the world and I had to fake a sudden cramp; painful enough that I was excused from the task, but not too painful that my bike-capable team mates became concerned. Well, that day I was also the only one out of 20 people to be taken off rowing duty as my rowing actually hindered movement along the river. Therefore, I think no one was suspicious of my cramp because I think they were more preoccupied with how one person’s imbecility outperformed another 19 people. Needless to say, I didn’t stay a Scout too long.

This shame followed me later in life, so I asked friends to teach me how to ride a bike at the age of sixteen. Thankfully, and also curiously, there were three of us in my friend group who similarly did not learn how to cycle at that age that people do, so the ridicule was divided among us. What I learnt better than I learnt to cycle, is that there are some things that you need to learn to do young, before you can imagine scenarios where you either die, become paralysed for life, or laughed at relentlessly by a whole coffee house that just witnessed the bike slide backwards, living you hanging mid-air and eventually dropping to the ground, somehow still holding your bike position, like a cartoon. Once that knowledge is bestowed upon you, it is a lot harder to accept the risk of bike riding. As a result, in this quest for dignity, I acquired a lot of bruises but did not fall a single time (other than the aforementioned example that defies physics); instead I safely dropped the bike onto the ground and it vengefully bruised me all over. Then, for a few years, I accepted that I would never ride a bike, only to be retaught in England as an adult for about a month. But England is cold, so that didn’t flourish much either. But this warm June, at the sweet age of twenty-six, I have decided I will not go another year under these circumstances.

This has admittedly been made easier by the designated cycling lane in my area, which means I am not risking as much as I would have, trying to learn among the cars. Rumour has it that Greek drivers in particular are not very fond of cyclists. As a Greek driver myself, I can attest to that; bastards slow us down. Our cycling lane is not without its difficulties though. While there are clear bicycle signs drawn onto the lane at various points, pedestrians have somehow claimed the space as their own. They take long, wide strolls and when I say ‘wide’, I mean taking advantage of the whole width of the lane. The bike that I have borrowed from my mom’s friend’s grandson (I am really short) doesn’t have a bell, so I resort to yell, politely, for people to move out of the way. But politeness has not been very effective for many reasons. First of all, I am not known for my loud voice. Or so said pedestrians complain. Secondly, most carefree strollers wear headphones just to make sure that I crash onto them. As I do. Pedestrians are at least quite safe to crash into. My real trouble is at the points where I need to cross the street. I usually wait until there is a sufficient gap between cars to get off my safety lane and cross. However, drivers frequently assume I can manage this cross with ease and gesture me to go ahead while they wait, presumably, for a couple of moments. I am not saying their assumption is groundless; I am over twelve years old, as far as they are concerned I should be able to do so. However, my limited experience in keeping my balance on top a thin metal pole balancing on two wheels and my emergent performance anxiety quickly have drivers regretting those decisions. I swear, I could be doing just fine while on the bike lane and the moment I feel pressured into cycling I turn into Niles and Frasier in that episode they too learnt to cycle as adults. Pedals don’t work, the bike is moving from side to side like a pendulum and I am internally cursing that I happened amongst kind drivers rather than bastards who wouldn't waste a moment to let me pass.

I doubt I will ever travel around Scotland with a bike or do a triathlon, but it would be nice to go pick up something nearby with my bike instead of walking. Not because it would be much faster, or less strenuous. Definitely not less strenuous. But just because if I ever run into anyone from that Gymboree, I will erase any doubt in their mind that I faked that cramp. What if I am not the only person obsessing over this tiny detail sixteen years later?