By all accounts, biking is one of the healthiest addictions out there. It gets your blood pumping, your body trim, breathing in fresh air. It can help with saving on gas money and introduce you to one of the kindest communities. In the words of Elle Woods, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t kill their husbands, they just don’t!”
I love biking for reasons that many people can relate to. That simple joy from riding on two wheels feels new and special each time I ride. The positive energy I feel from riding in groups makes me feel utterly grateful for those moments.
But sometimes it isn’t enough. Sometimes I find my heart and throat constricted tight as I ride home, my mind playing a video of all the things I did wrong that day. My legs are simply going through the motions of pedaling and the pavement is the only thing keeping me from falling endlessly. When I get home, I put up my bike and fall onto the couch, wondering why I will never be good enough.
At times like these I think: “If I ride more, the exercise will be good for me and it’ll be a nice way to pass the time. Also, it’s cheaper than therapy.” So the next day, I put on my helmet and I ride, smiling at strangers I’ll never see again and watching the sunset in real time. I ride alone and ride in groups and ride as an island floating through the ocean. I go to my quiet apartment, loving the silence enough to hate myself for thinking such a thing.
This world doesn’t function on silence. Communication is key. But what can I say when my words refuse to come out, when the voices around me are louder than my thoughts? I watch good hearted people befriend each other while I sink further into myself. Why is it so hard to believe they could be my friends? I suggest it to myself and it doesn’t feel real. I hide from people and my fear that is always waiting off to the side. Bikes aren’t nearly as complicated as people and despite all their moving parts, they’re way easier to decipher. Bikes never lie and are as trustworthy as the work put into them.
But people that bike are still people, with all their inner thoughts and emotions and motives. They have gone and are going through things you might never know about. They do what they please and build their lives from what they can find. And all the miles spent riding won’t be enough to help you understand other people or to feel a connection to them. If you try to ride through the walls you’ve built, you’ll just crash.
Sometimes biking isn’t enough and it’s the worst feeling. Sometimes I am just going through the motions. Sometimes I smile because it’s easier than telling the truth. But as long as it isn’t all the time, I can still pedal and watch the sunset and tell myself that there is tomorrow, another day to ride. I can’t help it. I’m addicted.
Eunice Wang 