The red light incident.

Yes, that one.

Let me start from the beginning because context matters.

I learned to ride a bike the way most kids do. My dad put me on it, gave me a push, and said “pedal.” Like I was supposed to already know what that meant. Dumb.

Once I figured that out, I got upgraded to my very own custom yellow Paul Frank beach cruiser. Christmas scavenger hunt situation. I was stoked. My mom has always been obsessed with a good beach bike ride, so naturally, we all caught the bug. Miles and miles blasting Shaggy, Angel, It Wasn’t Me, the whole discography, thinking we were absolutely hot shit. We had braces, wore gauchos, and were on beach cruisers. But we felt amazing, and that’s what counts.

That love of biking eventually turned into a love for SoulCycle. Which, honestly, I loved. Probably because it was dark, the music felt like a club, and nobody was forcing you to take shots with the group. Just good energy and a really hard workout. I picked up the classic SoulCycle cadence (if ya know, ya know), which is no joke. The hand movements, though? Pointless. Never got those. Always felt like you should just go grab some dumbbells instead. Eventually, I got bored (story of my life), stopped going, and my spin shoes sat in my closet collecting dust.

Then came Hawaii. Then came the pina coladas. Then came the triathlon idea.

And then I remembered. Wait. I have spin shoes already. I am already invested. Girl math. Might as well keep going.

So thanks to the random dude who sold me my perfect bike. I took my Quintana Roo Kilo out for a few rides without the spin shoes first because those tires are absolutely not beach cruiser tires, and I was not in the mood to meet the pavement. But eventually it was time to clip in and ride like an actual triathlete.

The bike path was across from where I parked, so I figured I’d get clipped in on the sidewalk and ride over. Simple. Foolproof.

It was 5:30 pm. Traffic was piling up at the red light right next to me. I clipped in, sat on the bike, and immediately fell completely over. Hit the sidewalk with my head hanging off the curb. Still fully clipped in. Staring up at a red light full of witnesses.

I laid there for a second like... you’re kidding me right?

Honestly, my first thought was not about my dignity or my head. It was about my overpriced bike bibs. Please do not have a hole. Please do not have a hole. Thankfully just a small scratch on my leg. Phew.

Got up, gave the traffic a little lol wave, and headed to the bike path.

I then held onto the yellow poles at the start of the path, trying to clip in. Almost fell over again. Standing there, genuinely wondering if I would ever be able to do a triathlon. This feels impossible. Why is this so hard?

And then it hit me.

You have to pedal first. THEN clip in.

Come on Gigi.

I have since successfully clipped in many times. Lance at my local bike shop is proud of me I think. We are going to be okay.

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