Lidia Creech: Ode to cycling

Personalities

Ode to cycling

Ode to cycling
Ode to cycling

It was exactly a year ago that my housemates and I uprooted from our crumbling, endearingly grimy shared house in Elephant and Castle to live 20 minutes down the road, between Camberwell and Peckham, in a house that had modern luxuries like double glazing and insulation.

It was exactly a day after that my mum came wobbling up to our front door on a bright blue, second-hand bike that was clearly too small for her. It was a present to me, as I had recently been clamouring to ride around London on a set of my own two wheels. Luxurious and IKEA showroom-esque as our house was, it was nowhere near any public transport connections. Even the nearest bus stop was a 10-minute walk.

A year on, I look back fondly at that day, and at the many days after that on which I routinely embarked on commutes through central London, weaving dangerously through the rush-hour traffic. Having never bothered to get my driving license as a demotivated suburban teen (who had, to be fair, always lived within five minutes of a bus stop or train station), I had never experienced the pleasure of moving around independently. It’s no surprise that the little blue bike felt like a ticket to freedom.

That said, I should acknowledge that getting to the point where I felt free to ride around on my little blue bike wasn’t especially easy. As is the case for anyone starting a new hobby, I certainly encountered a few obstacles during the first few months of my (figurative) cycling journey – particularly because it began in a notoriously overcrowded, traffic-dense city. I did my fair share of wincing and squealing whenever a bus came up behind me, afraid I would end up bulldozed, cartoon-style, flat on the tarmac.

An unfortunate incident that did come to fruition involved a dark evening, a car door and a very apologetic stranger, who scooped my trembling body off the floor. When I cycled to a garden centre with a housemate in December, I lost sensation in my hands, which had turned a concerning shade of mauve.

These, and many other along the way, have been invaluable life experiences – not least because I’ve learnt to wear gloves when it’s cold. And it’s why, as I think back to Sunday mornings spent battling up Denmark Hill to be afforded a coffee and a cinnamon bun from Gail’s in Dulwich on the other side, or leisurely post-work rides around Hyde Park during the height of lockdown, and especially pre-lockdown commutes down an overflowing Liverpool Street, my heart swells with pride.

To say that cycling has enriched my life would be an understatement: as well as being a (mostly) free and (actually) fun way to exercise, it has also served to boost my self-esteem, as I become exponentially confident in my ability to cycle further and faster, and to facilitate my friends’ discovery of a (mostly) free and (actually) fun way to exercise. My recent revelation that taking a wheel off and replacing an inner tube is, in fact, possible has bolstered my self-belief no end. And, as I reflect on the trajectory of my year-old love so far, I only feel excited for our future.

Lidia Creech
Lidia Creech is an editor by profession and writer in her spare time. Find her on Twitter @lidcreech or follow her reviews, rants and reflections at easternwritersbloc.wordpress.com

Excerpt from BIKE Magazine, click here to continue reading the full article

May 2021

Share this article

Useful

Recommended

Latest

Personalities

Cycling Through Grief

Cycling Through Grief: At the end of April 2021, my dad passed from this world to be among the stars. He died very suddenly,…
Cycling Through Grief