We all know the phrase “it’s like riding a bike.” It insinuates that you never forget something you’ve already learned. It’s a form of muscle memory. You hop on and your body just knows what to do. But riding a bike has a completely different connotation for me. I see riding a bike as a lesson in fear.
I love riding my bike. My husband and I used to go on bike rides through neighboring towns in Holland, stopping for a coffee and a treat halfway through the ride. When we traveled to Spain, we spent a day riding electric bikes in the countryside passing through small beautiful towns. I love the movement, the wind on my face, the scenery. I feel like I’m flying. But here’s the caveat. I am not a “natural” bike rider. I’m actually borderline bad at it.
When I first learned to ride a bike, it was pretty clear I wasn’t a natural. I’m pretty sure my brother hopped on and just rode, while I struggled to keep the bike balanced. I’ll never forget my first bike. It was royal blue with a long white seat. I loved it despite lacking the mastery to ride it. When all other teaching tactics failed, my dad tried riding it with me to help me feel the movement and the gentle lean with each turn. We finally figured out that fear was the issue. I was so afraid of falling that every time I needed to lean into a turn I’d shift my body away from it and down I went.
After some practice runs of leaning into the turns, my dad thought “lets just get her moving and then she’ll start pedaling and it will click.” Nope! Epic fail. I hopped on the bike at the top of a hill…wait…did you catch that? At the top of a hill! Well, you can pretty much guess what happened. I picked up momentum and I panicked. I was screaming and lifting my feet off the peddles, flailing my legs out to the sides. My dad is yelling “brake…stop!” Well, I stopped all right. The curb stopped me and then my body proceeded to flip over the handle bars. My memento was a whopping, colorful black eye.
Somehow, I eventually did learn how to ride. Something clicked and I finally figured it out. But the fear never fully left. I still semi-lean into turns just enough to keep me riding but wobbly at best. Fast forward to roughly five years ago and my questionable biking skills were on full display. We are in Holland visiting family. My husband and I, enjoying being kid free for the day, decide to go for a bike ride. We are riding along the waterside and the beautiful neighboring towns of Loosdrecht. It is so picturesque. Eventually we come to a street crossing with a tall hedge bordering the sidewalk on the opposite side. The hedge is at least 10 feet tall offering coverage for the buildings and homes behind it. The path takes an S curve past the intersection and around the hedge.
I notice my grip tightens on the handlebars as I cross the intersection. The cars make me tense. I see my husband ahead of me take the sharp right turn with a decent pace. The bike lanes in Holland are often 2 way with little distance between each rider. The Dutch don’t even blink at this but I’m often holding my breath hoping I don’t wobble and clip someone with my elbow. As I finish crossing the intersection, a woman coming the opposite direction comes around the hedge just when I’m approaching the turn. I’m thinking “don’t bump the nice Dutch lady…oh gosh that’s a sharp turn…that hedge looks like a wall.” I panic and stiffen up. I liken it to those goats that freeze and topple over.
It turns out stiff arms don’t make for a great turning posture. So I end up crashing into the hedge with enough momentum to continue moving forward while scraping my face along the way. Why is it always the face? This time I found the break and came to a stop. After a bit my husband notices I’m not responding to him and looks back to see I’m nowhere in sight. He bikes back and finds me scratched and littered with bits of hedge in my hair and clothes. “What a happened?” He says. “I ran into a hedge” I whine embarrassed and then I burst into tearful laughter. My ego is bruised but I can’t help but laugh at myself.
Again it was the fear. I was afraid of leaning into the turn and trusting that I would be ok. I froze and pushed away from the fear. That is how bike riding offers me a lesson in fear. Whenever I feel fear, instead of freezing, I need to lean into it. How often have you felt fearful about doing something, so instead you don’t do anything? Fear can stop you from moving forward or it can consume you and take away your ability to be present in the moment.
Recently I found myself frozen by worry and fear. I spent my energy thinking about all the “what ifs” versus making a decision and taking action. I didn’t move forward, I just stood frozen in fear. But if I were to approach it like riding a bike, and lean into the fear, letting it go as I lean, I would keep moving forward. I would see what is on the other side of the hedge. Fear can easily disrupt your ambitions and personal growth.
What helps you to step into the fear? Trust. Trusting the flow and the process. Ultimately knowing that you are capable of handling whatever comes across your path. Know that standing still in the fear prevents you from having new experiences. Imagine all the things you would have missed out on in life if you had let fear stop you. Instead of bracing against fear, embrace it. Hug it close to you.
So let my illustrious bike riding career be a helpful reminder to you. I feel a little fear every time I hop onto my bike. But, I don’t want to miss the joy I get from riding, so I do it anyways. If you are fearful of a step you need to take, or a decision you have to make, lean into the fear. Acknowledge that it is there, take a breath and move forward anyway. Fear can be helpful. It can keep us alert and at times offer us protection, but if we let it take over it can impede our progress. Just breathe, stay present and lean into the fear.
If you need a supportive hand with leaning into the fear, check out my programs for more information about integrative health coaching.