Triathlete Scared of the Bike

I’ve been hiding a bit of issue. I’m a triathlete scared of the bike.

First, let me back up.

Last May, with no experience of riding a road bike, I signed up for a triathlon. No problem I thought. I’m a regular at spin class, how hard can it be?

Well, I found out it wasn’t easy, but I stuck with it and figured it out. I taught myself how to clip in and out of the pedals, change gears, and navigate turns.

 

I not only taught myself how to ride a road bike but within a few weeks I was going on 30-plus mile rides.

 

Soon I graduated from flat rides to hills.

By September, I completed the Ironman 70.3 Santa Cruz, which included a 56-mile bike ride with a 2,284 feet change in elevation through the hills of the Santa Cruz mountains.

End of story. I am a road bike warrior excited for spring so I can get back out there and train for my next triathlon. Right??

Or not so much.

After the Half Ironman, I hung my beautiful road bike up in my workout room and got back to my first love, running.

The weather was colder, daylight was declining, and riding my bike wasn’t a top priority anymore since I was training for a marathon in December.

Although my bike has been hanging on my wall ever since, it has been top of mind- a lot. But not in a good way.

 

During the triathlon offseason, I’ve grown increasingly fearful of riding my bike.

 

The change? Honestly, it’s completely mental.

While I was training, I fell two times. Both were small falls at very slow speeds. Basically, I was going slow and couldn’t clip out fast enough.

While neither resulted in more than scrapes and a minor ankle sprain, the memory of the falls has consumed more and more of mind.

Another change- I’ve recently heard more bike accident stories.

If you follow any social media accounts geared towards triathlons or bikes, you are bound to hear about injuries- from minor falls to very serious accidents.

And while this is nothing new, it has changed my feelings about biking. I’ve started building up my fears instead of remembering all the wonderful rides I enjoyed for months.

 

Now the thought of getting on the bike seems almost paralyzing instead of exciting.

 

I’ve been grappling with this privately for some time now. And as we all know, keeping things like this inside only helps them to grow.

Throw on some shame, and I’ve got a real winner of a time bomb building up.

For me, a core shame trigger is spending money. And that’s exactly what I did before the Half Ironman. I got an expensive, beautiful, new road bike to pursue my new passion.

Now the fears and the money spent not only make me scared but I also guilty.

I’m writing about this for two reasons.

First, whenever I blog I feel better. Shame and embarrassment fester in the dark places of our mind. Nothing good ever comes of that.

Second, something shifted in me this weekend when I was watching the Dayton 500. I know, random.

The sportscasters were talking about Dale Earnhardt Jr., and about how he raced differently after the death of this dad, Dale Earnhardt Sr., who passed away in the last lap of the Dayton 500 in 2001.

They said he drove differently after that. And how could you not?

But he still drove.

 

I’m sure things were different. He had to be scared.

 

I’m sure he missed the days when he didn’t think much about jumping into a race car and driving at insane speeds lap after lap.

But he still did it.

Maybe he did it with a different frame of mind. But he didn’t give up the sport that he loved, even though it took a loved one from him.

It helped me realize my fears are okay, but I don’t want them to define me.

We all have things that we used to do with no problem but now can’t imagine doing again.

 

But that’s not where the story has to end.

 

We have the opportunity to put those fears aside and work on remembering why we love doing something, instead of recounting all the reasons we’re scared and should never tackle them again.

I’m not interested in being controlled by my fears.

I have the choice to let them go and see what happens or hold onto them like a precious gift- one that keeps my life small and limited.

And as someone who maybe watches a NASCAR race on a rare occasion (though my husband watches more often), I’m certainly glad I turned it on last weekend.

Who knew a former race car driver from Kannapolis, North Carolina, could have such an impact on this novice triathlete in Sacramento, California?