There are a few things that bind all cyclists together. There’s the general fear of drivers, that comes with years spent on the roads; there’s the make-do-and-mend attitude to repair and cleaning, and the tell-tale chain tattoo; and there is the appreciation that a bike ride can fix almost anything.
To this, add the feeling that you are about to fall over. No matter who you are, no matter how often you cycle, there is, on the horizon, the eternal possibility that you might lose your balance and hit the floor. When you’re clipped in, this multiplies much further, obviously. It’s a constant risk. Changed pedals or cleats? Your heart is probably in your mouth. I’m not talking about genuine crashes, but those slow-motion embarrassments that we’ve all seen, and experienced. In fact, I don’t think I believe you if you’re a clipped-in cyclist who claims to have never fallen over. It’s an embarrassing rite of passage.
To tell the truth, though, I thought the days of falling over were behind me. Call it hubris or complacency, but I hadn’t toppled over since the beginning of 2020, pre-pandemic. That time, I was relatively new to cleats and cycling up hills, and I tried to clip in heading onto a 8% climb. It didn’t last long. That wasn’t the first time, though, before I got used to the constant unclipping that comes with riding in a city, I had my fair share of bumps. Nothing ever serious, although my bike probably didn’t appreciate it.
Since then, I’ve kept cycling to the extent it has become an indivisible part of my personality, 30,000km, more or less. These days, when I glide up to a traffic light, I rarely feel the terror that I might be about to go sideways, but there is sometimes that little worry, the sticky cleat, the speed reducing too fast. I’m certainly not a track stand guy.
News editor at Cycling Weekly, Adam brings his weekly opinion on the goings on at the upper echelons of our sport. This piece is part of The Leadout, a newsletter series from Cycling Weekly and Cyclingnews. To get this in your inbox, subscribe here. As ever, email adam.becket@futurenet.com – should you wish to add anything, or suggest a topic.
However, the inevitable happened last Wednesday. After a rainy evening ride with my club, I was on my way home, thankfully alone, when I stopped at a red light. This is when it gets weird. I was clipped out, I think – I always clip out with my left foot – and my foot was on the ground. Somehow, and I’m going to blame my ankle which is still healing from being broken, I managed to fall over on my right side, bang. People talk of your life flashing before your eyes when you’re in mortal danger, but in this very unthreatening moment, everything slowed. It was probably the slowest falling over ever seen, and then I was on the ground.
I picked myself up, the bike was fine following it’s momentary coming together with the ground, and turned round to watch the driver of an SUV shaking his head at me. Clearly, not a cyclist. I shrugged and continued on my way, up the hill home. The only evidence of it happening at all was the blood coming out of the smallest graze on my knee – why do knees bleed so much? – which was soon sorted out by a shower. Oh, and my ego had been bruised.
Why does all of this matter? Well, it’s a good point, unless you’re an Adam Becket completist. The truth is, apart from the shock of hitting the ground, and a bit of my knee left on a road in Bristol, it was a helpful learning experience. A reminder that however good at cycling you think you might be, you can still find the tarmac rushing up towards you, if you forget to balance for a moment.
Earlier this year, I helped a friend get used to riding in cleats, something completely new to her, and I was very reassuring about how rarely you end up falling over. I probably also couldn’t really compute how you could fall over, the whole thing being so second nature to me these days.
Now, though, I get it. I’ll stop taking for granted that I can just clip in and out with ease, and try to actually concentrate. It was also useful to remember that we are all just the same as cyclists, going through the same things. A rider in the Tour de France has to clip out less, sure, but I’m certain that the odd pro has stacked it on the roads of Girona. It happens to the best of us.
For a sport and activity so full of ego, snobbery about how you look and ride, and barriers at every level, falling over is a good way of being reminded that we’re all just people on bits of metal trying to have fun. Maybe we’re not beginners anymore, but we’re all still learning. Let’s have more sympathy for each other as cyclists, even if me falling over is undeniably funny, especially when I don’t break my ankle.
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