Meeting a new kind of fear
When I bought my first mountain bike after twenty years on the road, I had a certain image in my head. I saw myself cruising down flow trails, hitting bike parks, jumping and conquering steep descents. In theory, I was prepared to be fearless. In practice, I quickly discovered that gravity, rocks, and very real consequences have a way of humbling you.
On my fifth ride, I decided to try a popular red trail nearby. The first section felt incredible, fast, playful, exactly the kind of fun I imagined. Then came a steep section with no room for error. Falling there would not be a banged shoulder. It looked like the sort of fall that ends holidays, jobs, and maybe limbs. My body reacted instantly: tense shoulders, death-grip on the brakes, complete halt. I walked the bike down in the most awkward manner possible, trying not to fall even while walking.
This was not the progression curve I imagined. I knew mountain biking would challenge my skills, but I underestimated the psychological side. I didn’t even consider fear as a factor, not really. But it was there, physical, instinctive, and, annoyingly, very reasonable.
A realistic look at a fear of descending
Fear while descending is not irrational. You are travelling fast, the ground is hard, and your body has bones that break. Even on the road, descending at 60 km/h into an open bend can send a quiet chill through your spine. The risk is real. But fear also has a job: to keep you alive.
What helps?
- Progressive exposure: harder trails in small doses, not big leaps.
- Skills before speed: body position, braking, vision.
- Practising specific features intentionally and repeatedly.
- Stopping early when feeling overwhelmed, not pushing until fear wins.
For me, the biggest accelerator when overcoming fear was clearing sections that originally terrified me. I gained a mental reference point every time that happened. A little internal catalogue of “I’ve dealt with scarier than this.” Now, when I approach a section that looks scary, I get a vivid image of something similar I’ve done. Often, that’s all the confidence boost I need.
My partner’s fear looked different
My girlfriend’s cycling fear story didn’t start on a trail. It started on a zebra crossing, on foot, when a car hit her and shattered her leg. Open fracture, two surgeries, long recovery, a terrifying memory. Years later, when she took up cycling, riding near cars wasn’t just uncomfortable – it was a trigger.
We built up slowly: cycle paths, quiet roads, safe loops. But living in Prague, traffic is part of the deal for a road cyclist. Sometimes we stopped mid-ride so she could reset. Too much exposure was overwhelming. But over time, she adapted. Today, she only gets shaky at major intersections. To be honest, I’m not confident at those either.
Fear of traffic: The messy truth
Some fears you slowly tame. Some you manage. Traffic is both. And unlike trail features, cars are unpredictable and not always kind.
What helps?
- Controlled exposure: building confidence in low-stress environments first
- Predictable routes: fewer surprises, fewer stressful events
- Clear rules and habits:shoulder checks, signalling, lane positioning
- Riding together: safety in company and moral support
And just like on trails, there was a balance: too much safety bubble meant stagnation or even regression, too much real-world chaos could be a setback. The sweet spot was somewhere in between.
What about you?
Fear is a part of cycling for most people. As wonderful as the sport is, there is always some risk. Maybe it’s me getting older and more aware of what can go wrong or just knowing how long it takes to bounce back from an injury, but I’ve started noticing more things that make me tense up. The best approach I’ve found so far is simply to keep riding and keep enjoying it, even if progress is slower than I’d like. How do you deal with it? Do you tense up on descents? Do cars unsettle you? And seriously, how do I lose the fear of jumping? That’s probably a topic for another time.
