There was this Ikea ad in France a dozen or so years ago that had a goldfish as its main character. It’d go round its bowl and exclaim “oh! a new couch!”, then it’d swim around again and exclaim “oh! a new couch!” and… you get the gist. It was, for some reason, very popular in my family, if not the country.
I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently, as I’m cycling again, and it makes me feel like the silly Ikea goldfish. For context, I first started cycling in London in 2011, around two years after moving to the capital. A friend had a spare cheap bike they didn’t need, and I had the sort of student budget which meant that I welcomed any opportunity to save money on travel.
My first few outings were terrifying, as I’d only really cycled in the countryside with my dad back then, and Trafalgar Square was a tad more stressful than that, but I quickly got into it. Within weeks, I found myself zipping to all corners of the city, at all hours of the day, feeling freer than ever.
Cycling across London fundamentally reshaped my understanding of the city; its geography revealed itself to me in a way it hadn’t previously, as walking is that bit too slow, and it’s so easy to just get distracted on winding bus routes. On my shiny little red bike, I could map out my new home in real time, connecting neighbourhoods and finding shortcut after shortcut. It was exhilarating.
It stopped after around 18 months, for reasons I couldn’t adequately explain. I did move house around then, and found myself in an apartment block that had no space in which to properly store bikes.
That was part of the explanation, but surely I could have found a solution? I just don’t know what to say. Somehow, I just stopped cycling, without even really thinking about it. It was just this thing I did, then stopped doing.
Seven years later, nearly to the month, I could feel which way the wind was blowing, and I walked into a cycle shop to buy the cheapest secondhand bike they had for sale. It was early March, 2020. I ended up using that ugly, bright azure bike for another year and a half. It was… well, the circumstances meant that “great” wouldn’t quite work, as I wasn’t just avoiding the tube for fun.
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Still, there were points when I could feel myself going mad in the depths of lockdown, and being able to cycle up to central London and through the streets of Westminster and Soho helped me remember that my old life hadn’t been a dream, and would surely return one day. Again: it made me feel free, even if that twisted freedom had been forced upon me.
It probably shouldn’t be a surprise that I rushed back to public transport the moment I could, as it’d come to embody the return to normal I’d craved for so long. What I don’t get, though, is why it took me another four years to embrace cycling again.
It happened around a month ago, quite spontaneously. I hired a rental bike near my flat and I had a good time, so I did it again a few days later, and again, and again. I’ve now bought myself a monthly subscription, and cycle most days. It’s been an absolute joy, and I can’t believe it took me this long, again, to get back on the (metal) horse.
The one thing that has changed since 2021 is that Lime bikes and other electric offerings are now unavoidable. Because I don’t use them, preferring to rely solely on my own puny thighs to get around, I have arrived at an unfortunate truth. These days, the slow female cyclist is the least respected person on the road.
Cars never liked me anyway, but they seem to now despise me more than ever; e-bike users keep zipping past me at a speed that makes me nauseous; pedestrians clearly do not consider me to be a meaningful threat, and keep walking in front of me even when it isn’t their time to cross.
Despite all this, I thrive. I don’t go very fast at all but it doesn’t bother me. I stop at every single red light, not because I’m a goody two-shoes but because I enjoy having a little break. I frequently take scenic detours because I’m yet to master the art of turning right on a bike on most roads. I have a lovely time.
Will it last? That’s the million-dollar question. I’m having a ton of fun right now, but will that still be the case when it gets dark? When it gets cold? When it starts raining again? Your guess is as good as mine.
In the meantime, however, I’m going to make the most of it, and encourage you to do the same if your lifestyle makes it in any way feasible. Cycling’s a real joy, I promise – I know I often forget about it, so maybe you do too, but you should join me on the road. You won’t regret it.
