A CONFESSION: I haven’t been on my bike in two summers. This isn’t my first long breakup with a bicycle. From the ages of 13 to 31, I didn’t go anywhere near a bike following a pretty significant wipeout that left me with an arm studded with bloody pebbles and a contusion at the top of my pelvis.

Lately, I’ve been trying to figure out what this recent avoidance has been about because here’s the thing: I love riding my bike. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that cycling is one of my preferred methods of both physical activity and transportation.

And then, last month, I went to Amsterdam.

The capital of the Netherlands isn’t just one of the most bike-friendly cities in the world; cycling is woven into Dutch culture. I was in awe of not only the sheer number of people out cycling — even in terribly windy, rainy, sleety weather, I will add — but the number of parked bikes crowding every available public space.

Most Dutch cyclists I witnessed weren’t clad in spandex or athleisure (or helmets, for that matter); they were dressed for their destinations. Others had clearly taken their bikes to run errands, balancing groceries and, on more than one occasion, bouquets of flowers.

I was in awe of how smooth and well-maintained the bike lanes looked. (I was too intimidated to try for myself.)

I had never been anywhere like that, a place where cyclists, not motorists, seemed to be the ruling class. A place that’s the diametric opposite of Winnipeg, basically.

Of course, this fact doesn’t always make for an idyll. “Watch out for the bikes,” the friend I was travelling with cautioned me and this proved to be good advice.

As a pedestrian, it’s not enough to “look both ways” in Amsterdam; you have to look left-right-left again, otherwise you will almost certainly be mowed over by a cyclist. Or at the very least yelled at.

But still, I was jealous. I would love to be the kind of person who could ride to the bakery to pick up a loaf of bread and then meet a friend for a coffee. I’d love to be a commuter cyclist, riding to and from work to build some fresh air and fitness into my day. I would love to do all these things without the threat of being run off the road by a car that could injure me or worse.

And that’s when I had an epiphany. I love riding my bike. I don’t love riding my bike in Winnipeg.

Honestly? I’m scared to ride my bike in Winnipeg. Whenever I do ride my bike — which is never, these days — I stick to paths that do not share the road with vehicles.

I can’t bear to be yelled at, again, for turning left from the correct lane because motorists think I shouldn’t even be there. (I only make right-hand turns if I can help it, which is, uh, limiting.)

Being a cyclist in Winnipeg feels a bit like being a pedestrian in Amsterdam, except a cyclist probably won’t kill you if they hit you.

It’s very hard to adopt any kind of lifestyle when there is no systemic support for that lifestyle.