Bike Club saved my soul

Those poor men. Those poor poor men who can't just call a mate to say:

"I've had a really shit day. Can we chat?"

Those poor blokes who need some random activity as an excuse to hang out with their pals and start talking... or not talk... whichever. Those. Poor. Guys. Poor babies.

Look at us. Us women. We're so good.

So good at recognising the emotions we're experiencing. Sooo good at grabbing a mate and talking them through. So, God damn, good at expressing ourselves. No fear. Bring on that emotion. We'll deal with it. No problem. We're emotionally intelligent. We're strong and awesome. It's our trademark. Errrr. Yep. Until trauma...

Up to you how you might want to describe trauma. Maybe it could be the experience of an abusive relationship. It could be the drip, drip, drip of a constant, negative interaction. It could be violence. Neglect.

For me, it was grief.

Trauma for me was the loss of someone who loved me no matter what. No matter what I said or did. The loss of someone who was fundamental in the building of who I was. Of who I am. It was the kind of loss that empties your insides and leaves you vacant. No verve left. All gone. Just dark space that no words could explain. No emotional intelligence could fathom this. No quick chat could solve it. I would fake participation in the world in some hope that my actual desire to participate would return. Maybe this was my life now? Maybe this was the new me?

A new year arrived along with COVID and her germy restrictions yet I didn't care. She was simply the supporting actress. If anything, she gave me the relief to postpone normal life. Then... a gentle sprinkling of hope. The COVID restrictions lessened and one of my besties suggested that a few of us mid-age female types should go for a cycle. We did and Bike Club was formed.

Throughout the summer, twice a week we'd plop on our hard hats and go. We'd bike over bumpy trails, through shady forests, down slippery verges, over wooden bridges, through muddy puddles, next to poppy fields, around spooky deserted churches. Every few weeks, another member would commit further by treating themselves to some more cycling equipment. There was some kind of adventure that would occur in each outing... swollen-lip wasp stings, stray dogs rescued, torrential rain that filled shoes and muddied faces, epic falls into stinging nettles. Bad weather, demanding jobs and muttering husbands couldn't stop us. Every time I stepped on my bike to join my girls, everything else disappeared. I loved the nature. I loved the freedom of cycling. I found happiness in friendship again. I felt comfortable, at last, with people. I didn't understand how this could happen by pedalling?!?! The girls and I talked it through (while biking).

What we realised was that if you're in your body, navigating the trails, you can't get lost in your head. We noticed that you can use the energy that emotion brings and transform it into every push down on a pedal. When you're cycling side-by-side with a person, there's no pressure to eyeball them to reassure them you're ok. In fact, if emotion is too hard to face, you can use moments of cycling to avoid it and grab some moments of relief. The adventure of each ride? A happy escape from the monotony of everyday demands.

I'm so grateful to Bike Club and the girls that gave her to me.

I guess there's only one last thing I should do... I should apologise.

I should probably say sorry to the men I used to berate - those who need activity to connect to others.

Dearest blokes, I was wrong. Maybe you had this sorted all this time?!? I'll give you this one (just this once).

At gentle courage, we rely on our community of life-writers. Have you overcome a difficulty in life? Have you read a book that has inspired you to change your mindset? Would you be able to write about it? Come join our community of life-writers.