By Erica

I’m terrified of bicycles.  It sounds crazy given that I ride 100+ miles weekly in the summer, but it’s true.  I’m terrified of bicycles.

When I was in 4th grade, I got into a bike accident while my family was on a weekend ride. I fell off my bike and broke my wrist, but perhaps the worst part was that I got a scratch on my face between my nose and my mouth.  And so the next week for class picture day, I had what looked like a Hitler moustache.  I was one of the tall kids then, so I was of course in the middel of the back row with my arm in a sling and no smile on my face. 

Beyond the embarrassment, though, the accident led to a period of about 10 years when I refused to ride a bike.  My parents tried to get me to ride on various occasions— when we were out on a camping trip or in our driveway— but I was just too scared. I’m a very risk averse person, and so one accident is all it takes to steer me away from an activity.  Biking was too risky.

I started biking again because I had no choice.  The summer of my sophomore year of college, I had a job at MIT, across the Charles River from my house.  If you know the Boston public transportation system, you know that it only really goes inbound and outbound.  It’s a real pain to get from Brookline to Cambridge.  The only option I had was to bike.  And so I got my biking legs back in the rush hour traffic in Boston.  I still don’t know how I did it, but I guess I did.

Years later, I’m still commuting to work by bike—less so in the winter, although I did bike to yoga this morning across sheets of ice in 18 degree weather.  And, as you know, I cycle competitively in triathlons.  If you were to just observe my behavior, you’d think that I’ve gotten over my fear.  I have a road bike with clipless pedals for god’s sake! But my confession is this: I’m still terrified of bikes.  My heart races a little whenever I get on one, I still don’t mount or dismount properly, and as Camila & Eileen know, I can’t drink while I’m riding.  Despite all this, I actually love biking, and I don’t know what my life would be without it.

(The point about not being able to drink is probably the one that needs to be addressed before I race 112 miles, but I’ll have you all know that I rode the 56 miles in the Half last year while only drinking once when I stopped to pee.  I think I’ve trained myself to ride dehydrated.  This is not something I’m proud of.)

There you have it— my biggest triathlon secret.  You can use it as inspiration to tackle your own fears, or you can use it to make fun of me behind my back.