I’m a klutz. And not just your average feet-don’t-always-communicate-with-my-brain kind of klutz, but the kind that is always trying to convince my doctor that I’m not getting beaten by my husband every time I’m in because I’m always covered in scrapes and bruises.
So naturally, not only do I do Crossfit, but I cycle as well.
In my defense, I try not to take others down with me. Up until a month ago I had never ridden in a group, and the few unsuspecting victims that did decide to ride with me received a full briefing on the importance of not being anywhere near me when it was time to unclip, stop, turn, or generally do anything other than pedal in a straight line.
Then I started with my current company, and wouldn’t you know it, we have a cycling TEAM here. We even have our own jerseys. Everyone is fit and fabulous, and there are even some beginners who are about my speed. After three months of peer pressure (and we all know, I’m a sucker for peer pressure), I finally agreed to introduce my co-workers to the fabulosity that is me in spandex, and go on a ride.
This was a month ago. I am happy to say, I’ve been on probably a dozen rides with them since then. I’ve also joined a local cycling group, and am slowly getting faster and better on two wheels. That said, I am still struggling to uphold my #1 rule of cycling:
Do not let your ADD get the best of you when either foot is still clipped in.
In case you’re not familiar with the cycling lingo, “clipped in” means that your cycling shoe, which has a cleat on the bottom of it, is clipped into the pedal that is attached to your bike. It helps you generate more power when you’re pedaling, and is the standard for any cyclist that takes themself even a little bit seriously. It’s also HUGELY problematic if you’re a klutz with ADD.
Imagine for a moment you are coming up on a stop light and you unclip your left foot and begin leaning to the left so that you can stop safely. Now picture a shiny object to your right. Look at the object. Think “ooh ahhh pretty shiny object.” Suddenly you realize not only are you looking right, but you’re leaning toward it as well. To the right. But wait, WAIT, your right foot is still clipped in. Now you’re spastically trying to unclip, yanking at the pedal, but you’re off balance and you can’t get a good angle. As you’re furiously attempting to impersonate the Tazmanian Devil doing the twist, you are past the point of no return. The super slow motion fall, which happens even slower than a freaking tree grows, is the mark of any cycling newbie.
So when you’ve been cycling for 5 years, you have no excuse.
Hey, at least I’m entertaining.