Grease, Grit, and Gears

What Getting Back on the Bike Taught Me About Leadership

It had been five years since I’d clipped into my road bike. Five years since I’d leaned into the wind, shifted gears, and let the wheels carry me through the streets of Atlanta. Five years since my kidnapping and hostage experience—a trauma that carved deep edges into my life. And my bike? It had waited in silence. Until now.

Recently, I got it tuned up. Clean chain, full tires, smooth cables—ready to ride. And one Sunday, with no big ceremony, I looked at it and thought: Today’s the day. No milestone. No audience. Just me and the open road. A quiet declaration: I did this before. I can do it again.

So I clipped in and set off on a solo 10-mile maiden voyage through the Path Foundation route. A ride not just of miles—but of memory, muscle, and meaning.

Let me tell you… the phrase “just like riding a bike”? Only half true.

Some parts came back with ease. Clipping in and out of my pedals? Easy. The subtle rhythm of braking and coasting? Still there. But shifting gears? That required a literal mid-ride Google search. My brain blanked. My hands forgot. I laughed out loud at myself as I stood straddling the bike, watching a how-to video.

Then I dropped my chain.

In the past, I might’ve powered through—forced the gear, cursed the moment. But this new version of me? She paused. Jumped off. Took a breath. Got her hands greasy. And slowly put the chain back in place. The grease was my evidence.

The road rash that came later—after an overconfident turn taken at too slow a speed—was the receipt. And that night, with sore muscles and stinging scrapes, I drew a bath with basil, honey, and lavender and let the day soak in. I didn’t cry. I didn’t cuss. I celebrated.

Because leadership isn’t about never falling. It’s about remembering how to get up—and knowing you still want to. It’s about learning to shift, even when it doesn’t come naturally anymore. It’s about adapting your response when things go sideways (or in this case, asphalt-side-down).

It’s about reclaiming your passions—on your timeline, in your way.

So what does this have to do with leadership? Everything.

Leadership Lessons from the Ride:

1. Resilience Isn’t Rigid
   Getting back on the bike wasn’t about proving toughness—it was about honoring growth. I didn’t need to power through. I needed to meet the moment with curiosity, not force. That’s resilience.

2. Muscle Memory Can Only Take You So Far
   Just as in leadership, experience provides a starting point, but not a pass. You still have to stay humble, ask questions, and relearn the things you once knew. Leaders who Google mid-ride get back on track faster.

3. Greasy Hands Are a Badge of Honor
   I’m proud of the dirt under my nails and the scars on my skin. They’re proof that I show up, get messy, and handle what’s mine to handle. Authentic leadership looks a lot like that: messy, hands-on, and honest.

4. You Can Celebrate the Crash
   Not every fall is a failure. Sometimes it’s a sign you’re moving again. You’re taking corners. You’re out there. And that is worth celebrating.

5. You Don’t Owe Anyone Your Passion
   Trauma tries to take things from you—your confidence, your joy, your rhythm. But leadership is saying: You will NOT take my passions from me. That’s not just badass. That’s sacred.

Final Thought:
Whether you’re getting back on a literal bike or picking up something you’ve set down after a hard season, let this be your reminder: Your leadership doesn’t have to look like it once did. It can look wiser. Softer. More intentional. More you.

And if you find yourself on the side of the road with grease on your hands and a wild smile on your face?
You’re doing it right.