The Freedom of Cycling

by Tamara Rempel

I don’t normally cycle.

My partner bikes to work, day in and day out, summer, winter, rain, wind, snow, or shine. My septuagenarian father-in-law is well known for his circumnavigation of the greater Steinbach area on his bike any time of day or year, likely carting extremely unusual loads, including, but not limited to, billboards, garden plantings, 8’ sheets of plywood, lawnmowers, pails of apples, and/or the occasional grandchild. Even my 7-year-old begs to drive her bike the 5km to school each and every day.

But, me? What keeps me from hopping on this two-wheeled bandwagon?

I have my reasons. I, too, am usually carting a load of some sort: recycling, groceries, sporting equipment, library books, pets, children. Each day has a finite amount of time. Getting groceries on my bicycle would take at least 2.5 hours out of my day, never mind any of the other errands I run with my vehicle. Also, one third of my commute into town is on frost-boiled/washboarded/muddy, rough-hewn gravel roads and the remainder is on a high-speed, bustling 4-lane highway.

I don’t bike. I would even go so far as to say that I don’t actually *like* to ride my bike.

One summer evening, however, I uncovered the true reason behind my bicycle antipathy.

Considered by many to be a laid-back  person, I have recently become acquainted with the underlying motivation for many decisions that I make. This summer evening I was headed into town to meet a friend for coffee, and I chose to ride my bike. As I cycled, I noticed my heart was racing, my breathing was laboured, and I had a death-grip on my handlebars.

Epiphany. I am afraid.

Fear that is not unfounded, mind you. Drivers can be boorish, the highway is busy, and in a contest between a bicycle and a motor vehicle, the bike always loses. But other anxieties float in my mind: What if it rains? Or is windy? Or I get a flat tire? Or I’m too tired to cycle back home? Or it’s too dark to ride where there are no streetlights?

So many reasons to not get on my bike.

Seeing that underlying fear, something in me shifted. As I cycled, I looked up. Friendly walkers smiled as I passed by them. I slowed my frantic pace. There were so many birds singing! I breathed deeply. Fragrant, post-rain scents filled my lungs. Looking at the foliage in its gorgeous summer garb, I relaxed my grip on the handlebars and felt the pride of propelling myself into town solely by my own muscle and determination.

And in that moment, I realized I was smiling. And I felt free.

This column is prepared by the South Eastman Transition Initiative. Go to setimanitoba.org.