Bricycles campaigner Chris Williams on safe cycling

I don’t wear Lycra, I have a bottom-of-the-range bike (big advantage: no one wants to nick it) and would struggle to name all the parts of a bicycle.

Like many people, I loved riding a bike as a child, but stopped as a teenager because the increasing traffic meant I no longer felt safe.

I’d look at people riding bikes around cities with envy and bemusement and told myself I’d gladly take up cycling again – as long as they built cycle lanes everywhere.

In 2015, I was living in London and a bike share hub opened near my flat. I’d see people going up and down the towpath on hire bikes – just normal people, who weren’t daredevils or fitness freaks.

One day, I plucked up the courage to hire one myself. I was shaky and nervous, but being back on a bike after so many years was exhilarating. That feeling of freedom is addictive.

Beginning on quiet roads and cycle lanes, I built up my confidence. I bought my own bike, and started using it for shopping, as it was quicker and easier than walking.

Tedious 40-minute bus journeys could be done in 20 minutes and I’d often look forward to the journey as much as the event.

I’d go to the pub by bike, and even the rain wouldn’t put me off. Having been overweight for years, I reached a healthy bodyweight.

Back in Hove, I carried on cycling. Having survived London traffic, I felt prepared for anything.

This last year has been hideous in many ways, but seeing so many people cycling has lifted my spirits.

People on bikes aren’t unreservedly happy, but in general, they’re feeling good because they’re getting a rush of endorphins – the body’s natural feel-good chemical, generated when you take exercise.

And there’s something magical about getting on a piece of metal that can’t stay upright on its own, but allows you to travel faster and easier than on foot, with no fuel required.

This time last year, I’d never have dreamt I’d end up running a cycling campaign.

I was sitting at home, freaked out and stressed about when I’d next get work.

Each day, I went walking or cycling in the eerily calm Stepford-like world of lockdown.

Some days, I’d have to force myself to leave the house, but I always felt better afterwards.

There were so many people on bikes, and it was clear that this was because they felt safe.

Realising this was a golden opportunity for change, I started writing to councillors, which I’d never done before.

Some were supportive, saying they’d also like to see the city made safer for cycling.

Some ignored me. Some responded with angry messages full of stereotypes about “the cycling lobby”, referencing activists I’d never heard of.

I started a petition. I got involved with Bricycles and set up an Instagram page, to show that the stereotypes aren’t true.

I met some amazing people, of all ages and backgrounds.

I learnt that many disabled people ride bikes, and that for some people with arthritis, it’s easier to ride a bike than to walk.

I learnt that dogs love bikes, and that you can get a trolley load of shopping in a cargo bike.

Almost all these people told me that what they liked the most about cycling was the sense of freedom.

They also said they don’t always feel safe on our roads and they’d welcome more protected cycle lanes.

Campaigning may not have solved my financial problems (Bricycles is run entirely by volunteers) but it’s given me a new sense of purpose.

I’m more passionate than ever about the benefits cycling can bring those who cycle as well as those who don’t, including livelier, more walkable streets and cleaner air.

I’m more convinced than ever about the need to make our roads safer.

In protected cycle lanes and quieter streets you now see parents and children cycling to school.

When every child can cycle to school safely; when all the non-cyclists feel safe on bikes, we’ll have achieved our aim.