Starting Small

Immediately after graduating college, I moved to New Orleans. I rode every day on my single speed battling the city’s signature potholed streets, intoxicated tourists, and terrible drivers. A lifelong friend lived a few miles away, and we biked together constantly. Cycling had become a decent part of my life, and it was something that truly made me happy while simultaneously putting my mind at ease.

In 2015, I decided to move to Colorado, and I learned very quickly that the cyclists I met weren’t into the same type of cycling as me. They were always training, beating PRs, and participating in races or duathlons. I was so intimidated by them - their gels, their spandex, their general thoughts on aerodynamics. It was all so foreign to me. My laissez faire, back of the pack cycling style just didn’t seem to fit in.

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I began to compare myself to these athletes and convinced myself I wasn’t good enough, serious enough, or fast enough to identify as “a cyclist” anymore. My bike stayed inside for the year to follow, maybe seeing the road a few times but riding was far from a priority to me. With each sunny day, I fell further into my slump knowing I should be out riding but for some reason now it suddenly felt like a huge daunting task.

Fast forward some time, and the same friend I rode with in New Orleans came out to visit. She was shocked to hear I quit riding. I tried to make jokes about it, but she saw straight through me and knew I was using my own insecurities as an excuse. She responded with something along the lines of “You enjoy it, so who the fuck cares how slow you are? Start small and go from there.”

It was the first time I had been so blatantly called out on it and really asked myself why I quit doing something I loved. I wanted to tackle these outrageous goals like my friends had and getting there seemed so overwhelming, so I convinced myself to give up before I even started actually trying. The week following my friend’s visit I reluctantly did what she suggested, I started small

Full of anxiety, I begrudgingly dusted off my bike and pedalled to work. I surprised myself and commuted every day that week, not caring how slow or how squeaky both my bike and I had become. With every “rider on your left” yelled in my direction, I pedalled a little quicker and a little bit more confidently. 

By the end of the week, all the small rides started to add up, and I felt better than I had in years. The mere daily 3 mile commute helped me overcome a huge mental barrier. Over the course of the year, my 3 mile rides turned into twenty mile rides which eventually turned into century rides. I felt accomplished when I met my goals and learned to forgive myself when I didn’t. My self doubt started to subside, I stopped comparing my achievements to others, and I could once again justify to myself identifying as a ‘cyclist’. 

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It’s been a while now since I got the nerve to start riding again but still the idea of starting small sticks with me everyday. Today I no longer consider myself that much of a back of the pack rider, but I wouldn’t be where I am without the friendly encouragement and push to just get started. Cycling can seem like a really intimidating sport to get into -  but it doesn’t have to be. Many obstacles in life can seem extremely daunting and intimidating at face value, but sometimes if you get the push to just start, and start small, you might surprise yourself with what you can accomplish. After all, starting small is always better than not starting at all, right?

allegra

Allegra is always looking for a good excuse to spend time outdoors - biking, climbing, and running seem to fit the bill. When she's not wiping out on a variety of horizontal and vertical surfaces, you're likely to find her trying to brainstorm the best shitty band names, drinking too much espresso, and crying while watching youtube videos of baby animals.

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On Depression and Derailleurs