I’m 38 and Overcoming My Fear of Riding a Scooter

Week 2 🛵

After a week riding on my own, some days I felt good, confident, proud of myself. Other days I felt anxious, like I was going backwards, like I wanted to give up.

Being an ex personal trainer, I keep noticing how similar this whole learning experience is to coaching a beginner client at the gym. And honestly I think it applies to learning any new skill.

But the deeper I get into this, the more I’m realising it’s not really about the scooter at all. It’s turned into this whole healing experience. Every fear, every wobble, every hard day is bringing up old triggers and wounds I didn’t even know were still sitting there. And moving through it, instead of avoiding it, is actually helping me heal them.

1. Consistency

Out of the 7 days, I rode 5 of them. If my beginner client, who was scared of the gym, showed up 5 days out of 7, I’d be so fucking proud of them. Right? So why wasn’t I giving myself that same cheerleader energy? Instead of focusing on the 5 days I did show up, I was zooming in on the 2 I didn’t. We really are our own toughest critics.

2. Feeling the fear and doing it anyway

Most days when I hopped on the bike I felt anxious. Part of me wanted to say ‘let’s just get a Grab today’ or skip practice altogether. But I kept checking in with my intuition, am I anxious because something in me is actually saying don’t do this today, or am I anxious because I’m just scared? Almost every time, it was the second one.

What’s interesting is my biggest fear about riding isn’t even having an accident. This experience actually helped me uncover what was really going on beneath it. I’m such a perfectionist, and being a beginner at something, not knowing what I’m doing, looking stupid, was activating an old wound. Not being smart enough. Not being capable. Isn’t that wild, my nervous system wasn’t reacting to the actual danger of falling off a bike, it was reacting to that wound getting poked. I’m more scared of how I’ll be perceived than of actually getting hurt. My inner child linked not being good at something with not being safe, with being rejected, with not receiving love. Unworthy.

I’ve been doing a lot of nervous system regulation work over the past 6 months, and honestly before I started learning to ride, my nervous system was the most regulated it’s ever been. These past few weeks it’s been so activated. Being aware of my body through this whole experience has been interesting, realising I’m completely safe, nothing is actually endangering me, yet my fight or flight is fully switched on just from sitting on the bike. I constantly have to check in with my body, ground myself back down. Focus on my breath. Relax my jaw. Drop my shoulders. My instructor’s words on loop in my head the whole time, ‘just relax.’

3. Small steps to build confidence

Rather than throwing myself in the deep end, I’ve taken it in stages. If you’re brand new at the gym, you don’t walk in and throw 100kg on a barbell squat. You strip it back, work on bodyweight, and build up once you’ve nailed the foundations. Same thing here, lessons first (throttle control, feet up, turning, maneuvers, different terrain), then my first ride alone, then further distances, busier roads, parking, new locations. One step, then the next. And actually pausing to acknowledge the progress instead of rushing past it.

4. Proving to myself I’m capable, even when my mind says otherwise

Even on the days my brain is fully convinced I can’t do this, I get on anyway. Every time I do, it’s proof I’m collecting, not for anyone watching, just for me.

5. Letting myself get knocked down without letting it mean something

Same as the gym, one bad interaction with another member, or a coach, and suddenly someone doesn’t want to come back.

I’d started feeling really confident on the busier roads, riding into traffic in Vietnam, so I figured I’d level up and book a lesson with a new instructor to ride around the city with him. Within the first minute of the lesson I watched someone else have an accident, blood pouring from his head. I literally rode over his blood that was all over the road. And I just didn’t feel safe with this instructor. There were signs. My intuition was telling me something was off before I even got on the bike.

Looking back, this whole thing was actually a bigger assignment than just the riding. It was about communicating my needs and actually being heard. I told him multiple times what I needed, what was making me uncomfortable, and he wasn’t listening. He kept overstepping my boundaries anyway. Which, if I’m honest, is its own childhood wound, not being heard, having to just push through and go along with it because that’s what keeps the peace.

Old me would’ve people-pleased through the whole lesson, smiled, said I was fine, and gone home shaking. This time I spoke up and ended the lesson. Unapologetically. No over-explaining, no cushioning it for his feelings.

I went from confident and capable to completely undone after that session anyway. I didn’t want to ride anymore. I stopped for 3 days.

But even after all that, even after 3 days where I could’ve just thrown in the towel for good, I got back on the bike. Nervous, scared, and I did it anyway. And I felt good after.

6. Self compassion

It’s ok to not be good at something yet. Doing something scary, and having the courage to even put yourself in that position, is already big. That’s something a lot of people never even try.

So if you’re learning something new and it’s hard right now, hear this. It’s ok not to be good yet. It’s ok to be a beginner. Everyone who’s good at what you’re learning had to start exactly where you are.

This has taught me so much about trust, presence, staying in my body instead of spiralling in my head. It can feel lonely. It can feel like you’ll never get the hang of it.

If you’re in your own version of week 2 right now, new job, new relationship, new city, whatever it is, and you’re shaky and unsure and kind of hate being bad at it, same. I’m right there with you. Underneath all of it I think it’s really just fear of the unknown. Not knowing how it’s going to go, not knowing if you can actually do it, sitting in that uncertainty when every part of you wants certainty before you’ll even try. Nobody talks about this part, the part where you’re not good yet and you just have to keep showing up anyway and feel like an idiot for a while. But you’re allowed to be scared and do it anyway. That’s actually the whole thing.

I’m still on week 2. Still nervous most days. But I keep choosing to show up for myself anyway, wobbles, anxiety and all. And I keep reminding myself I'm doing the best that I can. 🛵🤍