Earlier this summer, I toppled off my bike. My left elbow took the brunt of the fall as I landed hard on the pavement. I lay there for a few minutes, with searing pain in my arm, determining whether anything was broken. After gingerly moving my limbs and deciding there was no fracture, I got up. In tears, I kicked my bike.
This wasn’t my best moment. It certainly wasn’t a stoic moment. Frustration, embarrassment, pain—whatever my reasons, I lost my cool and took it out on my poor bicycle.
The kick wasn’t hard, but that’s not what really matters. I got caught up in the moment and let my emotions get the better of me. I’m not proud that I reacted this way, and in truth, my bike didn’t deserve the blame or my abuse. I had fallen because I made an error in judgment, no other reason. If there had to be a kick, I ought to have kicked myself.
But I shouldn’t have kicked anything. Yes, the injury hurt, and my entire arm turned several shades of purple and yellow over the following weeks. But people get injured all the time, and in the great scheme of things, this was mild. In the weeks since it happened, I’ve analyzed my reaction to the fall as a learning experience.
No one starts out on a bike ride expecting to tumble along the way. But that was what was wrong with my attitude about this ride. I had expectations. I didn’t strap on my helmet and consciously decide to simply experience the journey as it unfolded. I expected to stay rubber-side-down and my expectations were shattered when I fell.
The fall embarrassed me. There were a few witnesses as I went over, and I was ashamed that as a grown woman, I couldn’t keep my bicycle from overturning with me on it. A couple of people nearby immediately came to see if I was alright, but instead of feeling grateful that they cared, my first thought was that I wished they hadn’t seen me fall. How much worse would it have been if they’d just walked past, never asking whether I was seriously hurt?
I’m a little bit awkward at the best of times, and this fall felt like part of a pattern for me. It’s not that I routinely fall off my bike—I never have—but I have a reputation for being accident-prone. It’s an image I’d love to shed, if I’m honest. I’m teased about it because it’s a routine occurrence. My body sometimes behaves like a newborn colt, although it’s not quite as graceful or cute as one of those.
This was a test of my stoic values and I failed. It’s easy to respond with calmness and grace when everything is going smoothly and there are no surprises. But it’s more difficult to remember how you’d like your best self to react when life throws a sudden curveball or deep pothole.
Where do I go from here?
Now the focus is on what to do with this information. I behaved in a way that was the opposite of my intentions. Where do I go from here?
One thing I do not do is beat myself up for my behaviour. That would pile a poor reaction upon a poor reaction. I’m only human, and I’m bound to make many more mistakes as I continue on my stoicism journey. This is an opportunity to evaluate, learn and improve.
I probably can’t do anything about shedding tears. I’m the kind of person who cries when they get angry or feel strongly about something. It’s just part of who I am. So, I’ll accept that and move on.
As far as kicking my bike goes, it’s hard to not think of that as an extremely immature reaction. Probably because it was. Again, I’m not saying this to pile shame upon myself, but to analyze where it came from and how I can best prevent it in the future.
When someone bumps into me with their grocery cart, I have no problem smiling and telling them it’s OK. It hasn’t crossed my mind to kick their cart. In fact, I can’t remember ever kicking something in frustration before this episode. It was an anomaly, which makes it less likely to be repeated. Still, I did it, and as odd as it feels to admit it, it’s the truth.
If I fall off my bike again, I’ll know not to abuse my bike. But what happens when something different occurs? Life is unpredictable. My challenge is to temper my reaction to whatever happens in my life, not just another bike fall.
We meet all sorts of frustrating and perplexing people and situations. Stoics remember that they’re happening outside of us, and not to internalize or react strongly to them. They’re out of our control, and we are the ones who decide whether they’re good, bad or indifferent. The more a budding Stoic like me exemplifies this response, the better off we—and our poor, innocent bikes—will be.
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image 1: Natalia Gałuszka; image 2: Tumisu
