I bought my first road bike today. It’s shiny, light, and a little bit intimidating. I’m entering my second year of riding in a cycling club, and now I have the kind of bike that many road cyclists have.
I am working through the difference between doing cycling and being a cyclist, and what it means to step toward something before I feel entirely ready.
For example, clip-in pedals. Everyone has an opinion on them. I am already preparing to face today the well-intended male employee fitting me on my new bike who has already twice insisted—insisted—on clip-ins.
But I’m nervous about them. Two cyclists were hit by cars in my area of recently. Every time I roll to the edge of the road, there’s a flicker of fear. It’s not just about falling in traffic but feeling unseen, or worse…seen but then dismissed by drivers.
Riding a bike means having to take up road space in my city. However, I was encouraged by an awesome documentary, Breakaway Femmes (2025), which retrospectively reveals the space women had to take up to be part of the male-dominated Tour de France race during the late 80s. That film showed how cycling is about taking risks for the sport one loves. It’s about choosing to move forward, even when standing still would feel safer.
So today I am moving forward on a version of myself I’ve been imagining for a while now. And first space I must claim for myself as a cyclist is the one in my own head. So here I go.