My palms start to sweat. My heart begins to race. My body gets hot, and my breath quickens. I stand in front of the bike. Cars drive past without a care in the world that I can’t move. I want to jump on and ride away, but fear stops me.
It all started when I was younger. I was supposed to ride my bike without training wheels. But why? I was doing just fine with the two extra wheels, thank you very much. But apparently riding a bike with training wheels for the rest of your life is not socially acceptable. My mom tried everything to get me to ride. She promised to get me a new book I really wanted. She told me she would teach me and never let go of the back of the bike. Kids, when your parents tell you they won’t let go of the back of the bike, they are LYING. I get that it’s how I’m supposed to learn and yadda yadda, but it’s scary. Not to mention it takes a toll on family trust.
Anyway, I went through years of being petrified and staying home from family bike rides. Then one day I got a bout of courage and ran with it. Let me just mention that the last time I had courage like that I jumped into a pool without floaties because I thought I had magically learned to swim (Update: my cousin saved me, and I have since learned to swim). I rode around the neighborhood, determined to surprise my mom with my awesome skills. I even decided that I could go down the big hill in the neighborhood. My skills had increased that much. I started down the hill. This isn’t so bad. I’m doing it. I’m actually doing it! Then, Woah this is fast. I didn’t think about the turn at the bottom of the hill. Crap! Then I forgot about my brakes and everything. I ran straight into a curb, flipped over my bike, and landed in a neighbor’s yard.
My brother found me with a bloody nose, cradling my aching wrist. It ended up being broken, deepening my fear and hatred of bikes. You would think my family would understand that I didn’t want to ride a bike again, but no! They decided to do a bike ride tour of Dogwood Canyon. They paid for me to do it, and I couldn’t exactly walk alone without them. I hopped on the bike and even enjoyed it for a time. But then I had to ride over this little bridge that was steeper than it looked, if I might add. After the little bridge, the path went left towards a waterfall and right towards more trail. I, however, forgot about my brakes and turning and went straight for the water in front of me. Not wanting to go into the water, I jerked the bike and fell on my butt. A bruise started forming before we even left the waterfall, and I successfully walked my bike the rest of the way.
You might be wondering why I even brought up my somewhat irrational fear of riding a bike. I am not really confronted by my bike riding fear anymore because my mom doesn’t ride very often and the “family” that always wanted to ride are no longer in my life. There are certain activities that remind me of my fear. I have discussed my cautious personality and my fear of doing things that could get me hurt. I thought that my trip to Costa Rica and the “pura vida” mindset had instantly transformed me into an adventurous person. A trip to the lake for the Fourth of July made me realize that is not accurate.
At the lake, we had to get around using jet skis. I wanted to be able to conquer the jet ski like I conquered so many things in Costa Rica. I started driving it around, and any time I went fast, I freaked out and would pull my hand off of the gas. I realized I was afraid, and I hated the lack of control that made me feel. I realized jet skiing reminded me of riding a bike. And I realized I am still a scared and cautious person.
With this realization came the same embarrassment that I have felt about not being able to ride a bike. I had a great time at the lake; my friend drove the jet ski. But underneath that fun time, I was upset with myself. I was upset that I wasn’t a whole new person just because I went to Costa Rica. I was upset that I was holding myself back from trying to drive the jet ski again. I was upset that I still have fears. I know my fears are kind of irrational, but I also know that the idea of never having fears is also irrational. Probably more so.
From this embarrassment and shame, I discovered that I need to cut myself some slack. I also realized that I want to try to ride a jet ski again. I’m not quite ready for a bike, but baby steps. This is how I discovered a change in myself. I realized that I have a desire to push myself and not let fear control my life. That is a huge difference from the person I was not that long ago. I know I am strong and capable, and I know that I want to let myself have fun.
This has been a slightly embarrassing confession, but I want to own it. Yes, I have a phobia of riding a bike, but I want to move on. I will start with a lake vehicle that is not really the same thing as a bike at all, but hey, it’s a start. That, to me, is courageous.
Faking It Made 