[OPINION] A riders’ death trap in Marikina

Marikina is often called the bike friendly city in the Philippines, a place where cycling has long been part of everyday life, not just recreation.

On a typical day, the roads look ordinary. Traffic flows, jeepneys pass, and cyclists keep to the side, doing what they have always been told — stay out of the way of faster vehicles.

But along a stretch of Mayor Gil Fernando Avenue in Marikina — directly opposite a Petron station, between Redwood Road and Bacolod Road — the real danger does not come from traffic.

It comes from the road itself.

At first glance, nothing seems unusual. Along the curb runs a line of metal drainage grates. Beside them, the asphalt dips slightly — uneven, worn, easy to overlook. But for anyone on two wheels, this combination is dangerous in a very specific and predictable way.

A rider naturally moves toward the side of the road to avoid faster vehicles. The depressed surface subtly pulls the wheel inward, closer to the drainage line. The grates, aligned parallel to traffic, sit exactly where the rider ends up. At that point, there is very little margin for error. A slight shift in balance, a minor misalignment, and a narrow tire can slip into one of the metal gaps.

These grates are not passive infrastructure. They are wheel traps. At the wrong angle, they can swallow a tire whole. The real hazard isn’t just the grate — it’s the combination. The road surface dips inward, pulling the rider off line. That’s where control is lost. The fall doesn’t start at the grate — it starts with the road itself. Combined with the road depression, they leave riders with nowhere safe to go. This is not just poor design — this is a death trap hiding in plain sight.

The wheel stops instantly. The rider does not.

There is no collision, no reckless behavior, no external trigger. Just a sequence set in motion by how the road is designed and maintained.

The injuries that follow are not random. A sudden stop throws the rider forward, and the instinct is to break the fall with the arms. The result is often a fracture of the wrist or forearm, sometimes the shoulder, occasionally worse. These are familiar patterns in emergency rooms — the kind that tell you not just what happened, but how it happened.

In places like the Philippine Orthopedic Center, a significant share of fracture cases involve riders — motorcyclists and cyclists alike. While motorcycle injuries are more visible, a meaningful number of cases come from cyclists who fall not because of collisions, but because of road conditions like these. These incidents rarely make headlines, but they occur far more often than we acknowledge.

When the same type of injury emerges from the same kind of environment, it stops being an accident. It becomes a design problem.

There is a more fundamental solution: separating cyclists from these risks entirely. This is not just about convenience, but about health and system efficiency. An elevated cycling network, for example, cuts congestion and cuts disease at the same time, while even modest shifts in behavior — as little as 10 to 12 percent of commuters moving to bicycles or e-bikes — can already ease pressure on major roads.

The idea is not as far-fetched as it sounds. Cities like Bangkok have shown how existing infrastructure can be repurposed — building pathways under elevated rail lines, skyways, and transport corridors to create safer, continuous routes. In the Philippine context, similar opportunities already exist under MRT and LRT lines, expressways, bridges, and even drainage easements.

More importantly, this does not necessarily require massive new spending. As discussed in the same article, a hybrid network using existing structures could cost a fraction of traditional elevated infrastructure — significantly less than building new expressways — while delivering immediate benefits in mobility, safety, and health.

Because what we often call “bike lanes” in the Philippines are not really lanes at all. They are leftover space — a strip of paint carved out of an existing car lane, usually placed exactly where the road is worst. This is where drainage sits, where potholes form, where surfaces are uneven and poorly maintained. In effect, we are directing cyclists into the most dangerous part of the road and calling it infrastructure.

From a public health perspective, the implications go far beyond individual injuries. The Philippines is facing a steady rise in non-communicable diseases such as obesity and diabetes, conditions closely linked to physical inactivity. Encouraging safe, everyday cycling is one of the simplest ways to address this — not through campaigns alone, but through infrastructure that makes it possible.

At the same time, rising fuel costs and broader energy pressures are changing how people move. Bicycles and e-bikes are no longer niche alternatives; they are becoming practical, everyday solutions for commuting. Supporting them properly is not just a transport issue — it is an economic and energy issue as well.

Yet when infrastructure is not properly maintained or designed, the cost does not disappear — it simply shifts. It shows up in hospital bills, lost income, and long-term recovery. For some, that burden is manageable. For many, it is not. In the end, both citizens and government bear the cost — just in a far less efficient and far more painful way.

Public roads are not just functional assets; they carry a responsibility to be safe. Local governments are expected to ensure that infrastructure does not create foreseeable harm. In this case, the risk is neither hidden nor new. Wheel-trapping grates are a known hazard, and road depressions are clear signs of maintenance failure. Together, they create a condition where injury is not just possible, but likely.

So the question becomes difficult to ignore: if the hazard is visible and the consequences are known, why does it remain?

Marikina has shown that it can lead in promoting cycling. The next step is to match that vision with infrastructure that truly protects the people already using these roads every day.

Because the reality is simple: people are already cycling.

The opportunity — for safer roads, lower costs, reduced congestion, and better health — is already there.

The question is whether we are willing to build for it.

A road that predictably injures its users is not infrastructure. It is negligence paved in concrete. – Rappler.com

Dr. Jaemin Park is an adjunct professor at the University of the Philippines College of Public Health and works across Southeast Asia on healthcare financing, medical innovation, and public sector reform.