Bike shoes

Today is the day, both dreaded and anticipated, that I take my road bike around the neighborhood for the first time with my feet clipped into the pedals. For those unfamiliar with such technology, as I was, for roughly $100 you can buy the strangest pair of shoes you’ll ever own, then fork out more dough for strange pedals, then hop on your bike and hope you don’t die. The goal is bigger bang for your buck—better pedaling efficiency, and less likelihood that any turn of the legs will be a wasted effort. Sold.

Underside of bike shoes

I have pretty good balance, but the idea of my feet locking into a pair of shoes that require a perfect pivot to release from pedals is terrifying. Every cyclist I’ve talked to has given me the same bottom line: I’ll fall a few times, but then I’ll get used to the clipped-in method and love it. They act like falling is no big deal. One friend even laughed when she described tipping over at a stop sign. While I’m glad they’re all okay, I’m not made of rubber like they seem to be. When I fall—even slip in a puddle in my own driveway—something snaps or pops or just plain hurts. I don’t bounce and keep going.

I’ve practiced with my funny shoes and funny cleats on an indoor bicycle trainer for a while, but the monotony of staring at the wall has forced my adventurous spirit to take to the road. It’s a “road bike,” after all.

I’ll not undertake this challenge without help. I perused the aisles of Wal-Mart and seriously considered affixing training wheels to my bike, but came up with a less embarrassing solution. I’ll have a good friend—the kind of friend who’s rare and wonderful enough to indulge my odd requests—act as human training wheels. She’ll hold my seat and the top tube of my bike until I get the shoes to lock into the pedals, sort of like my dad did when I first zoomed down the street on two wheels. I’ll loop around the block, then come to a gentle stop and have her grab my bike again while I try to click out of the pedals. Foolproof? Hopefully. I’ll wear a helmet, mouthpiece, and maybe some kneepads just in case.

It’s hot and humid, the first of August, and high time to find out if I can even begin to imagine what it feels like to be Lance Armstrong. Plus, I mailed in my health insurance premium yesterday, which always gives me a tingling desire to try something stupid. I look forward to the follow-up to this post, because if I write it, it means I’ve survived. Outta my way, neighbors!

Shoe details: Shimano SPD-SL RD86. Two velcro straps across the forefoot, plus a ratchet-style strap that adjusts smoothly, even in a hurry. Nice cushioning inside, with a removable insole.