Looking back on a year of cycling

Ramblings on recovery, introspection, and community — how cycling turned my life around within a year.

Around this time last year, the team at Clippings was wrapping up a week-long remote event. For 7 days, two opposing teams had walked, ran, and cycled to total as many miles as possible. The fierce competition built up as days went by, and when the week came to an end the 20 participants hit just short of 2,000km. Of those, I had racked up more than 400km on my trusty single speed. My weekend had been fully dictated by my rides: wake up, go for a ride, come home to nap, eat, get back out… and so on, four times a day. My untaped commuter bars were relentless on my hands, shoulders, and neck, while my saddle was relentless on my sitting bones — everything hurt. I had no prior cycling experience other than my pre-Covid 15min commute and was exhausted. And yet that was my gateway into the world of cycling: I stumbled my way in and haven’t looked back since.

It’s fair to say we were all in an unusual mental place in the summer of 2020. Cycling let me draw strength from the uncertainty of lockdown, as I suspect it did for many of us ‘lockdown converts’. Before cycling, I was starting out on my running journey — that was how I sank into my head and let my legs do the work. When I’d caught Covid in March, my cardio took a hit and I consequently lost all of my running progress: I was thrown back to square one. It was a challenge to keep at it, but eventually picking up cycling brought me a more gentle way to recover both physically and mentally. With it, I learnt it’s important to give ourselves space and time to build ourselves back up. Going “all in” isn’t always the solution, and sometimes it’s downright impossible. Taking things easy, starting slow, and trying new things with no expectations can open doors we don’t even realise are there.

My early morning rides didn’t take me out of the city at first. I was doing short local loops around deserted Hackney, sometimes down to Isle of Dogs, Greenwich, and London Bridge. I reached a turning point the first time I went up towards Epping, far enough to reach treasured country lanes. That first time I witnessed the landscape around London opening up to rolling hills, I was blown away that so much space could exist within reach of my cramped Hackney flat. I caught my breath next to a cattle gate and laughed to myself in amazement, embracing that newly found feeling of possibilities.

Then I built up to longer rides. Richmond, St Albans, Cambridge, Windsor, Reading… London becomes smaller on a bike; more approachable, less congested. While I was re-discovering London, cycling also allowed me to appreciate my solitude. I felt a bit odd in the midst of lycra- and carbon-made riders, ready for early morning Richmond laps. Initially, I relied on that difference to keep myself away from unhealthy comparison: I was headed my way with what I had—my fitness and my kit — and others were doing their best with theirs. While I no longer can rely on my lack of kit to pull myself out of comparison, this notion has stayed with me since: everyone, in cycling or not, is doing what they can. There is no ground for comparison, performance is just down to what you can do throughout your entire practice.

Since then, I’ve progressively joined the lycra ranks. Last November, I picked up a new bike (more on that later) and learned to ride using gears, drop bars, and clip-less pedals. Along with the bibs and jerseys, it made cycling a lot more comfortable, but all that gear also brought a feeling of being an imposter in the ranks. An idea made its way into my head that by wearing “proper” kit, I could ridicule myself or put others in danger by cycling along them. Luckily, as I moved down to South London in January, I quickly discovered Brixton Cycles Club which snapped me out of those negative ideas and brought the best turn to my cycling journey.

I’d looked up cycling clubs before but never felt they were quite for me: they all looked like hubs for skinny white dudes in matching kit to race round various park laps. However, BCC came as a recommendation from a friend, and the members’ joyful hellos on weekend rides was the final push I needed to sign up to an intro ride. I joined my first all-women’s intro ride this April, we chatted in twos throughout the ride and laughed so much during the cake and coffee break: I was sold. With group rides I discovered cycling has its own language of hand signals and calls. I met people from different backgrounds, experiences, and in love with every possible combination of cycling disciplines. There’s a constant willingness to share about bikes, passions, routes, to try new things and encourage each other. Being surrounded by that is infinitely inspiring. In a male dominated sport, finding the right cycling club has helped me understand that I can also take part in the two-wheeled side of the world.

Today, cycling is everything to me. I ride in groups, I ride alone, I ride with my family, cyclist and non-cyclist friends. I commute, I travel, I practice, and every bit of it makes me want to keep going. It’s brought me courage and independence: I never feel like someone will harass me while I’m on a bike, I’m not scared to go out riding my bike at night. I can go anywhere and will travel alone days on end, despite what I have been told too many times before about travelling alone as a woman. I’ve learned so much about my body and my mind: I’ve found heroes, I’ve learned about mechanics, endurance, nutrition, navigation, and planning. The world around me feels more connected, I no longer rely on the ecological nightmare that is a commercial flight to land somewhere: give me enough days and I know I can experience everything between point A and point B in full, by bike. It’s a sport with so many dimensions so, if you’re in doubt, don’t let its portrayal in the media make you think it’s not for you— start with any bike and you’ll be a cyclist.

A year later, I have lived countless new experiences and met just as many inspiring people. Cycling has turned my life and outlook around, it’s brought me stability and joy like nothing else before. This feels rare and powerful, and as I cherish these feelings I can’t wait to see where it will bring me next.

A huge thank you to my sister Camille, Vedangi, Callum, Carlos, and all the BCC crew for sharing your cycling enthusiasm and wisdom with me — see you out there!

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