On your left

Learning to speak up.

When we first got married, I tried to convince my husband, Griffin, that we should get into cycling together. We live in Cincinnati, a moderately biking-friendly city, and I thought it would be a fun way for us to get around town and enjoy something active together. “Biking on the streets makes me nervous, I’m not interested,” he said. Fair enough, I didn’t have my heart set on it. The idea died, we moved along, and the bike I bought off Craigslist a few years prior sat in storage, collecting dust.

What I wish I looked like on a bike. From Pinterest.

Seven years and two moves later, we woke up one morning to find Griffin’s Hyundai Sonata gone. It had been parked on the street when we went to bed, but it was nowhere to be found in the morning. We had heard about Hyundais being hot-wired and stolen, and called the police thinking we were the latest victims. “We have your car,” the police said. “It got hit by a drunk driver last night and pushed into your neighbor’s yard.” Oh.

“I think I’ll ride your old bike to work today,” Griffin said.

The car was towed back to our house the next day, but it was not drivable. This car had already been through the wringer, with a disconnected catalytic converter and a ton of milage. We had looked into selling it on Carvana once before, and the generous estimated value was $76. Miraculously, we ended up with $7,000 from the insurance companies.

“Should we start looking into what we can get to replace your car?” I asked once we had the insurance money.

“I’m in no rush,” Griffin said, “I like biking to work.” Oh.

We didn’t replace the car for months, and even then we ended up buying a minivan for me and Griffin took the twenty-year-old 4runner I had been driving. But when the weather was nice, and sometimes even in spotty rain, he still picked biking over driving.

By this time, we had two kids, and we were expecting a third. I found it ironic that Griffin was falling in love with biking around town seven years after I had suggested we try it together, but it no longer seemed like an option for myself. I usually had the kids with me, and biking didn’t seem practical.

A year and a half later, a friend signed into the Peloton app on my phone, and I tried a few classes on stationary bikes at the gym. The energy was fun, and the classes were challenging. I enjoyed them for a season, but eventually the app logged me out. Part of me wondered if I should try out biking in the real world, but again, three small children.

Another year passed, and I found myself thinking about biking again. I decided to take the old bike for a spin around our neighborhood. It was lovely. A couple days later, I rode to a biking and running trail right off our neighborhood. It was a brisk day, and I basically had the entire thing to myself. Riding outside instead of in a stuffy gym felt exhilarating. Real wind, fresh air, sunshine. Maybe this could be my new form of exercise?

A few days later, I took the bike out again. This time, the weather was a touch warmer, and it was a Saturday. I got to the trail, and it was much busier than last time. I wondered if I should turn around and head home, navigating around so many people on the trail was intimidating. But I knew not biking would feel like I had wasted my time, and technically speaking I knew I could pass anyone I needed to, as long as I gave them a heads up and enough space, it just wasn’t something I was comfortable with yet.

So I took off on the trail. I biked along for a few minutes without problem, but soon approached a few walkers. I slowed down, waiting for a good moment to maneuver around them. And when I started to take off, I yelled, “On your left.” Except, it didn’t come out as a yell. It was more like a squeaky attempt at a yell. Nevertheless, I made my way around the walkers without any accidents, and that gave me a touch of confidence.

A few minutes later I came up to the next group of walkers, and I knew I had to speak up a bit more make my presence known. “On your left!” I called out, and this time my voice sounded stronger. I got around the walkers without a problem, but I realized I still wasn’t speaking loud enough.

The next opportunity came up even quicker, and I geared up to say it with my full chest. “ON YOUR LEFT!” I half shouted, and it was plenty! The walkers acknowledged me, and I swiftly moved around them.

With every passing, I figured out my volume, the timing of my delivery, and the flow of movement a bit more. Each time I gained confidence, and I felt good about my movement.

It’s not always easy for me to say what I want, especially if what I want is different than my status quo. It’s intimidating, and I feel nervous to put my desires out into the world for others to see. But if I’m not the one calling it out, who will?

Writing something to publish online feels nerve-racking, but once I take the first step, I feel a little more confident the next time I write. I’m less scared to hit “publish.” I am not as worried that I’ll botch it. I gain momentum, and I have the courage to do it again, and again, and again.

I could turn around and go home. I could stop. But that’s just avoidance, and when has that ever gotten me where I want to go?

I want to be a writer. I want to keep going. And I’m coming up, on your left.