Family Biking: Life has gotten in the way of my cycling dreams — for now

Hello BikePortland Community,

I have postponed writing this in hopes I wouldn’t need to write it. I had so many biking hopes and dreams and plans, so much that I still wanted to do, explore, and write about. So many bike adventures that I thought were yet to come! Indeed, last summer I started saving up money to buy a custom bike of my dreams from Splendid Cycles, a human-powered XL cargo bike that rode like a dream. I was even thinking about having another baby and was excitedly plotting how to situate a car seat in the box of my new Splendid Mama-bike. I thought the new custom cargo bike would be my “forever bike,” one that I would use to carry my groceries and grandchildren 20 years from now. I wanted to bike on my own power, farther and faster and fitter. I had lots of wild bike plans. I even bought a used 18-foot canoe and we were halfway through building a trailer for it to tow behind my anticipated Splendid Cycle–the nearest put-in spot is 2.5 miles away, and I wanted to take all the kids, car-free. (I love that the folks at Splendid didn’t think this was a crazy idea–they were 100% supportive of finding ways to do all things by bike.) 

I had other plans and dreams for other types of biking too. Mountain biking was something new that I wanted to try. My oldest son got a mountain bike and we were planning to start mountain biking together. We went out to a great beginners’ spot (Chehalem Ridge) and I had the most fun that I have had since I was a child. I thought our mountain bike adventures were just getting started.

I was also planning to save up and buy folding bikes for all the kids, so that we could do carfree adventures in Portland and anywhere public transit could take us. With a big family, we can’t ever use the bike racks on the front of buses, and it’s even difficult for all of us to fit bikes on the MAX, so folding bikes have been another item on my biking wish list. I also dreamed that someday we might go bike-packing and bike camping, that we might travel to other cities and bike in new places, that one day we might even go bike-packing across the United States, or through Europe or South America–or all of the above! 

But then my personal world fell apart last October. A family member suffered a devastating medical diagnosis and treatments have, so far, been unsuccessful. At the same time, I suffered a painful personal crisis, followed by financial struggle. The life I thought I had crumbled. It was like experiencing a private earthquake. My cargo bike got a flat tire and I couldn’t muster myself to fix it. I looked every day at the totally deflated tire and thought, “That’s fitting. That’s how I feel.” I quit biking entirely, and the tire stayed flat. 

I had always, primarily, biked for joy. It made me feel carefree, playful and fun. I had previously biked myself out of depression, and held onto biking as a key support of my mental health and sanity as a mother to five kids. But now, as I looked at my cargo bike, I felt like I was looking at a vehicle from another life. Biking was something I did before my world collapsed, back when I had been happy, when my life made sense, when I had hopes and dreams that felt attainable. That all feels like an inaccessible past, far-away, never to be returned to again. 

Part of me knows I am wrong to leave my bike unridden in the garage. But I guess emotional wounds may take longer to heal than even double-knee-replacements. I have been walking a lot. Walking can be sad and slow. The joyful pace of biking has felt too discordant with my personal suffering, as if riding would be lying. I am too deeply depressed to straddle a bicycle with my children, a bicycle that I associate with happiness. 

My husband finally managed to replace my flat tire, but my bike still sits. We had some car trouble, so I did manage to ride a few times, out of necessity–but not for joy. My children have asked why we are walking, and when will we bike again? The answer is that I don’t know. My heart is broken, and I don’t know how to repair it. For now, I can walk, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other. It feels like all I can do.

I hope that this is just a hard season, temporary and passing. I hope it’s true that “time heals all things.” I hope that I can find a way to bike again with my children, to embrace joy again, and laugh as the wind blows in our faces. 

Until then, I am stepping away from BikePortland as the family biking columnist, a role I have cherished. I grew so much as a mother and cyclist while writing here. My memories are happy ones. My children blossomed too. The older ones bike themselves around town, and love it. The younger ones are eager to join them. Together we learned how to enjoy living locally, riding to nearby parks and destinations, finding extracurriculars that were bikeable. Our family life flourished, as we spent less time driving and car-commuting, and more time together on bikes and closer-to-home. We grew closer to our neighbors and our community. We became more thoughtful about the choices we make, how we live, and how we relate to the world. 

BikePortland, it was a beautiful ride. I enjoyed hearing from readers. I loved learning from you and sharing encouragement across the internet. And I am thankful that BikePortland is still here. Hopefully I’ll be back someday.

In the meantime, I am thinking about trying a new kind of biking, to see if I can develop a new relationship to cycling that isn’t laden with the brokenness I currently feel. At the moment, my cargo bike is full of broken dreams, and the money I had been saving for the custom cargo bike is long gone. But I have managed to ride my simple hybrid bike a few times, on my own. Perhaps that is my bike-path forward. I am wondering if I might be able to try road cycling, building up speed and distances that I wouldn’t ever attempt with kiddos in a cargo bike. I’m not quite sure how to make the jump from riding a few miles around town with my children to “training” and riding long distances on my own — the intimidating, lycra-type of riding. I don’t know if I can do it. But Jonathan is going to be back in the saddle with new knees. I’m hoping I can find a way back too.

— Browse Shannon’s previous columns here.