The Clip-In Chronicles: A Comedy of Cycling Errors

When I Decided to Go All In (Literally)

Cycling with Troy was supposed to be a fun, adventurous way to bond. So, naturally, I decided to go all in—fancy bike, sleek gear, and yes, the dreaded clip-in pedals. Because why ease into something when you can dive in headfirst and promptly face-plant?

The first time I clipped in, we were still in the house. I was feeling confident—no, invincible. I clicked one foot in, and just as I was about to click the other, the unthinkable happened. I lost my balance and toppled over. I wasn’t even outside yet, and there I was, lying on the living room floor, entangled with my bike, while water squirted from my bottle like some tragic cycling-themed fountain.

Troy just stood there, watching the chaos unfold. “I don’t even know how to help you right now,” he laughed. Ah, sweet sympathy.

I joked that maybe I’d gotten all my falls out of the way. Spoiler alert: I had not.

Resting in Peace... of My Dignity

Our next stop was the local cemetery. Because if I was going to die of embarrassment, it might as well be where they could just roll me into a plot. We were cruising along, I thought, “Hey, this isn’t so bad!” Famous last words.

As we started up a hill, I felt that familiar wobble. Down I went, right onto the concrete, scraping my knee in the process. Being the classy, sterile lady I am, I grabbed the nearest leaf and wiped off the blood. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? There’s no first aid in a graveyard!

Then, just to add insult to injury, a branch fell and hit me on the helmet. I looked up at the sky and yelled, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I was starting to think the universe was sending me a very clear message.

Pride Goeth Before a Fall (Or Three)

You’d think these would be clear signs to hang it up. But nope, I’m nothing if not persistent (or stubborn, depending on who you ask). We continued riding, and I started to feel a little more confident. That is, until we hit a big climb.

Troy slowed down in front of me, and in my panic, I tanked it again. This time, I ended up sprawled in the middle of the road, arms and legs out like a human starfish. People walking by asked if I was okay, to which I yelled, “My pride hurts!” That’s what was really bruised.

We limped over to our local bar, where I hobbled into the restroom to clean up my knee. Yes, the same knee. Every. Single. Time. We laughed about it over beers because if you can’t laugh at yourself, what else is there?

Downtown Disaster: The Traffic Edition

Just as my knee was starting to heal, I decided to try cycling downtown. I wasn’t even clipped in, but as I stopped at a red light, I accidentally tapped the clip mechanism and locked myself in. The truck in front of me screeched to a halt as I performed my signature move: falling over in dramatic fashion.

Troy just stared, mouth agape, wondering how I could be so “graceful.” I ripped the freshly healed skin off my knee and, naturally, Troy offered, “Want me to get you some avocado toast?”

Because apparently, food and alcohol solves all life’s problems.

The Final Straw (Or Branch)

The last incident really sealed the deal. We were out for a ride, feeling good, when a driver ran a red light. Troy, ever the quick thinker, yelled, “Just unclip and hop off!” Like that’s something my brain could process under pressure.

Before I knew it, I was over the curb, both knees busted up, and blood running down my legs like I’d auditioned for a low-budget horror movie. A nice guy who witnessed my tragic fall pulled over and offered us a ride. Bleeding profusely, I stubbornly shouted, “NO, I don’t need a ride!” Because clearly, I make excellent decisions.

After that last fiasco, I decided to call it quits on the clip-ins. It’s like my brain goes into full-on panic mode whenever I’m clipped in, convincing me that the clips are in control. I know they’re supposed to be the best way to ride, and I see people using them with such grace, but my mind just won’t allow it. Maybe one day I’ll try again, but for now, I’m sticking to flat pedals.

To anyone out there struggling with clips, remember—you’re not alone. And if you find yourself lying on the ground, tangled in your bike, your pride bruised and your body battered, just know you’ll have a great story to tell over drinks.

Cheers to falling, failing, and getting back up—preferably with a drink in hand. 🍻🚴‍♀️