i can ride my bike with no handle bars, no handle bars, no handle bars....

My whole life I've had an interesting relationship with bicycles.  My earliest memory of a bike is when my bike literally tried to kill me.  I was probably about 6 or 7, riding my bike with training wheels (the one two previous sisters had learned to ride on) and somehow I managed to fall off.  (Apparently I was so uncoordinated back then I was able to fall off a bike with training wheels.)  Being the same melodramatic girl back then that I am now, I laid on the ground in despair, thinking I would never learn to ride a bike, when the bike itself, having had enough momentum to keep going, and having training wheels so it didn't tip over, headed up the slight incline that was our driveway, turned, came down the drive way and ran over me.

Somehow, I still managed to learn to ride a bike and had a fairly normal childhood riding around the neighborhood, graduating up to the purple banana seat bike and then to a bright, new, shiny, my very own pink ten speed later.  (Nothing is better as the third girl in the family to get something of your very own.)

But my brushes with bicycles were not over.  My freshman year in college, I was hit from behind by a biker.  I was just walking to class when I felt something hit my calf causing me to stumble.  I can't remember if the girl fell off her bike or not.  She was probably going slow enough that she was fine.  She apologized and said she hadn't seen me.  "Really?" I thought. "I am the only person on the sidewalk.  Were your eyes closed?"  As neither of us were hurt, we went our separate ways.

When Lydia was on her mission, I borrowed her bike.  I would ride it to work, which was only a five mile ride.  I only fell off once when I was trying to avoid a pedestrian and my handlebars hit a fence, causing me to go down.  I still have a tiny scar on my wrist from that incident.

This is just a funny bike related story:
Jane was visiting me and she saw my newest bike and she said, "Hey, that's cool - I used to have a bike just like that."  To which I replied, "Huh.  Did you leave it in mom and dad's garage?"
(In my defense, mom and dad were on their mission at the time and they said I could take any bike out of the garage that I wanted and by this time in my life I wasn't as interested in the pink one.)

Recently, I decided I want to start doing triathlons.  I did one with Sleakbean back in the day and we had a lot of fun.  Plus, it's always nice to have something to train for.  So, naturally, I bought a road bike.  (My stolen from Jane bike is a mountain bike.)  Being the want-to-be-savvy biker that I am, I got a fancier model, i.e. one that has pedals that you have to clip your shoes into.  It is what those who are serious about biking do, so that's what I did, because I want to be serious about biking.

I was a little nervous to take it out the first time because, to be honest, I never was really good at turning.  But I figured I could only learn by doing, so I got geared up and headed out.  I headed to Antrum Park and started north on the Olentangy River trail.  To my surprise, turning wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  Road bikes are much lighter than mountain bikes, so I felt like I had much more control than with my old bike.

The first trial came not long into a ride.  There is a point on the trail where you must go over a bridge, make a nearly 180 degree turn and then go under the bridge.  I know myself and I knew I couldn't make this turn, so I came up with a plan.  Where the turn occurs, the trail actually goes straight for a bit into a parking lot.  I decided I would go straight, turn around on my feet and then go on.  I thought I could unclip one foot, stop, unclip the other foot and then go from there.  As I was approaching my stopping place, I unclipped my right foot and prepared to stop.  It was here that I learned something very interesting about myself.  It turns out that without even realizing it, I always get off my bike on the left.  So, I stopped the bike, and my reflexes told my brain to move my left leg down, but unfortunately my left leg was still clipped into the pedal, so before I knew it, I was on the ground.  It really takes talent to fall off a bike when you are prepared to stop, but that is me.  I fell in front of a group of forty something soccer dads on roller blades, who asked if I was okay, which of course I was.  One of them told me that I was going to wrong way to the bike trail and told me the way to go.  Of course I knew the way to go, and I had to pretend like that was my intention all along and that I hadn't just been thinking that the smart thing to do would be to go right back the way I came and completely give up my designs on biking that day.

I clipped back in and headed back down the trail, now with a bruised knee and a bleeding shin.  And now with the added stress of realizing I was probably going to die.  I tried to calm myself down by thinking, what's the worst that could happen?  But then I thought that the worst that could happen was that I could break my leg in a horrible manner and that I would never be able to use it again.  I just concentrated on pedaling.  I was about half way to the Worthington library (the end of the trail going north) when I realized: I have no idea how I am going to be able to turn around and get back on the trail.  I probably got a better aerobic workout than I maybe would have because my brain was telling my hear to panic.  Luckily, I did not remember what the Worthington area was like and when I got there, there was a big loop for bikers to just ride around and get back on the trail.  Whew! Crisis averted!

But no! New crisis!  I still didn't know how to stop.  Sweet Lady Jane! - I am literally strapped into this death machine!  I might just have to ride this until I die from exhaustion!  And then I realized that I still had the hairpin turn to deal with.  I practiced unclipping and clipping a few times to where I felt like I could at least get both feet unclipped at the same time.  I approached the turn and slowed down, with both feet carefully unclipped.  I managed to stop and get both legs on the ground.  I didn't dare actually swinging one leg over the bike, so I just kind of walked my way forward up the bridge.  There were a few people around me, so I "rested" a bit to let them by so I wouldn't embarrass myself getting back on my bike and going down the road.  To my chagrin, two young men walked by and, perhaps noticing the distress that was emanating from my body, asked if I needed help.  I told them that I was fine, but thanks.  One eyed me uncertainly, taking in my bloody knee and asked if I was sure.  Now I had no choice but to continue on.  I assured them that all was well and slowly got my bike going again.  

I approached the end of my ride with some trepidation, realizing that my usual method of stopping when I don't know how was to either fall over or run into something.  Realizing that with a padded room not available at the end of the ride I would have to try another method, I practiced unclipping and clipping a few more times.  I reached the park, and happily was able to unclip and stop, with only a few minor bruises to my thighs from stopping juuuuuust a bit too quickly.  

Hopefully my relationship with my bike with improve.  I'd like to think that I just need to work at it more, but that precludes the idea that I actually have a bit of balance in my body.  But, as it's the only plan I've got so far, I guess it's the one I'm going to have to take.  Plan B being a broken leg, but let's hope it doesn't come to that.