Clipping In

As an adult, why is it so difficult to try new things? Why is it so hard to push ourselves outside of our self constructed comfort zones?

When I first started riding a bike (not the 10-speed bike my mom bought for me at BJs that my father falsely assumed he had the mechanical skills to assemble but did not, thus sending me down a big hill with brake cables that had no tension in them) it was an old hybrid cruiser I had dug out of a friend’s shed. It was the very beginning of my journey into the abyss that is my current fitness lifestyle. I was living in Hingham, Ma at the time. 7 or 8 miles away was the Hull Gut, the very tip of the small peninsula of Hull, the town I grew up in. I would throw on some sneakers, a pair of gym shorts, a t- shirt and a helmet and off I would go on what would come to be known as my “Gut Buster” ride. I was hooked from my very first time. Immediately I was brought back to being a kid and shredding around on the bike jumping up and down off of the (4 inch high) sidewalks. Eventually I decided it was time to buy my first road bike, a carbon Fuji. At the time I thought it was the greatest thing I had ever seen. As I was going through the sizing and purchasing process the bike shop asked me what kind of pedals I was using. He had me. I was pretty good at “faking it until I make it.” He made a suggestion, installed the pedals, sold me some bike shoes, installed the cleats and sent me on my way.

Now came the moment. I geared up, pulling on my newly purchased spandex looking thingies and put on a jersey that was tighter than anything I had ever worn in my entire life. Walking through that fear alone was enough to keep me going. I remember clearly mounting my new steed, pushing off with one foot and attempting to pedal . One foot, two feet, I was in. Off I went, towards Hull Gut, watching the MPH soar on my newly acquired bike computer. Everything seemed to be going flawlessly. That is when I saw the traffic light on the horizon change from green to yellow. I slowed, and slowed some more. As my momentum came to a complete stop, with both feet clipped into the pedals, I knew I was in trouble. I proceeded to fall over in super slow motion in front of the line of cars that had also stopped for the light. I felt about 1 foot tall. I yanked my foot free from the cleat, untangled my heaped body and got back to my feet. By this time the light had changed back to green and cars cautiously drove away giving me both a wide berth and a sympathetic nod. I was a grown man, dressed in lycra, that had just fallen from a complete stop.

Without knowing it at the time, I was doing something hard. I was stepping outside of my comfort zone. I wasn’t letting the mental resistance, that typically tells me all the things I can’t do and the countless reasons why, creep in. I dusted myself off and kept at it. Little did I know the lesson learned that day was one of the biggest lessons I was going to take away from my entire training career: that stepping outside of my comfort zone and challenging myself will almost always lead to good things. Overcoming this particular moment enabled me to foster my growing love for the sport of cycling, something that to this very day borders on obsession. Whenever I am out for a ride I inevitably always see that person out there-- bike shorts, gym sneakers, helmet a little too big. And every time it brings a smile to my face as I go flying past them, with a courteous “on your left.” They are out there. They are trying. And for a long time that is light years beyond what I was doing.