With summer upon us, I’ve been loving my bike rides. But I’ve also been feeling the vulnerability of riding on the road—navigating traffic, unexpected hazards, and the constant awareness that not everyone is watching out for you.
A few years ago, in a road safety class for cyclists, I learned a lesson that has stayed with me: taking the lane—not riding in the gutter or on the sidewalk, but claiming some space on the side of the lane—is often the safest choice. Hugging the curb might feel polite, but it can put you in more danger—hidden from view, squeezed by passing cars, or dodging debris.
Lately, I’ve realized how much this lesson applies off the bike as well.
At various times in my life, I’ve been much more comfortable on the edges—squeezing myself around others’ needs, staying quiet to avoid discomfort, and choosing the sidewalk, even when the road was mine to ride.
And yet—just like in cycling—the margins aren’t always safe. They can wear me down. They can leave me unseen, unprotected, and exhausted.
Taking the lane means risking visibility. It can feel uncomfortable. I might worry I’m inconveniencing someone. But it’s my lane too. And when I claim it, something shifts: Even if shaky at first, I tend to feel more seen, more empowered, more space to be authentic—just as I am.
I feel it every time I bike now:
My chest expands. My breath deepens. I remember: I have a right to be here.
The Fierce Side of Self-Compassion: Taking Up Space for Your Well-Being
Self-compassion isn’t just about being kind to yourself—it’s about being fierce in honoring your needs and taking care of your well-being. This means setting boundaries, taking up space, and living authentically.
One of the defining attributes of compassion—whether for others or for ourselves—is courage.
Compassion asks us to face suffering and respond with care. Self-compassion asks us to do the same for our own pain, fear, or vulnerability. And courage is what lets us step forward, speak up, and create the space we need to be safe, honest, and whole. Sometimes that courage is bold and visible; other times, it’s quiet but unwavering—choosing what’s right for us, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Fierce self-compassion helps us to:
- Speak up for your needs
- Set healthy boundaries
- Say no with clarity and kindness
- Motivate ourselves with encouragement—not criticism
- Protect your energy and values
- Take up space, so you can be well, too
Fierce self-compassion isn’t about taking over the whole lane or shutting others out. It’s about creating enough room for safety, truth, and mutual respect. It’s saying:
I will not ride in the gutter to make others (or myself) more comfortable.
And also:
There’s still space for you here too.
Reflection and Action: How to Start Taking the Lane in Your Life
Notice the Margins
Where in your life are you “hugging the curb”—staying quiet, shrinking back, or making yourself smaller than you really are?
Name One Place You Could Take More Space
It might be in a conversation, a decision, your calendar, or even how you hold your body.
Choose One Small Action This Week
- Say “no” to something that drains you
- Speak one honest sentence you’ve been holding back
- Block time on your calendar just for you
- Sit, stand, or walk with your shoulders open and your breath steady
- Ask for what you need without apologizing
Anchor the Feeling
When you take that action, pause. Notice your body, your breath, your sense of presence. Let yourself feel the truth:
I have a right to be here. My needs matter. My well-being matters.
Closing Reflection
As I ride this summer, the sun warm on my shoulders, I’m reminded of how tempting it can be to drift toward the curb—to make myself smaller, to keep out of the way. But each time I claim my space on the road, I’m practicing something much bigger: trusting that I belong here, that my presence matters, and that I can move forward with steadiness and care.
In life, as on the bike, taking the lane is both an act of self-protection and self-expression. It’s a way of honoring the truth of who we are—visible, present, and wholly allowed to be here.
