Do one thing every day that scares you.
There are a lot of scary new things happening right now. They are happening for the first time and the only time. You can only watch your father die once. Unless your parents are gay and you have two dads. My dad is not gay.
While this massively significant event is happening, the rest of life is also happening, per it’s established schedule. There is work to do, kids to pick up, meetings to make, errands to run, and meals to prepare. Plus all the big and little details of this new event forcing its way into the schedule. Maybe that’s why, in stark contrast to the enormity of the ‘event’, the little things are so very sweet. Like riding a bike. And conquering an old fear.
You know that expression about riding a bike? I learned to ride late in life. Learning at the age of thirteen in the suburbs is very late, there is no training wheel stage. I was pushed off the sidewalk, then peddled and wobbled, and willed myself to stay perpendicular to the asphalt. I succeeded and I got a ten speed. This was a very big deal; it was new not used. A week later I crashed it. Badly. Going down the hill at the end of the street and careening out of control, I smashed into the curb and then a tree. My body eventually skidded to a stop. The frame was bent, the front wheel smashed and some limbs were missing patches of skin. My pre-teen vanity was irreparably damaged. I avoided bikes from then on.
I have friends who use bikes as their primary mode of transportation. They navigate downtown traffic, streetcar tracks and the treachery of parked car doors. I’m amazed they can do this, they’re confounded that I don’t. I have never blatantly said it’s because I’m scared shitless. And then there are the eco’ factors. I love the planet so a bike is an ecological no-brainer and I am cheap as fuck fiscally prudent, so that addresses the economics. But really this was about facing fear. Ah fear, like a bad ex-boyfriend I gotta get over you. So I did.
I rescued a bike that had been festering wheel-less outside a friend’s place. I cleaned up the rust, got the frame straightened and custom painted it. I bought a new tire, a helmet, lights and a bike bell. I learned the arm signals to indicate turning and stopping. And this past Sunday I suited up to face my lingering childhood hang-up about cycling in traffic. Instead of a twenty-minute car ride or a forty-five minute transit ride, I took a one hour bike ride with my sister through central and uptown Toronto to visit our dad in hospital.
It was an exhilarating achievement. I walked into Pop’s room brandishing my helmet and he was duly impressed. We did not reference my cycling history. It took an hour and a half to get back (sister’s navigation). My legs felt like spaghetti, I cussed all the way up the slightest incline and my cootch is still bruised. But it was the ride of a lifetime. I am now addicted to getting around on two wheels. And there’s one less thing on the list of fears.
So, you know that expression about facing fears? Meh, it’s like riding a bike.
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