Right turns, spills, speed and sun
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND – A bonus I get from sports, when I get around to doing them, is that they force me to face some of my fears. If you’re an athlete, a confident and regular cyclist, you can stop reading now.
I injured my knees skiing nearly 20 years ago and I’m pretty sure it was because of my fear of turning right. I could have skied down any mountain in a spiral, always going left, but no one makes ski runs like that.
It’s the same with bikes, and I’m wondering why: I can turn on a dime, or nearly, if I go left, but if I have to turn right I like to take it wide, very wide. This is not practical, especially on roads with traffic (how do you signal this?).
I also fear falling off the bike. Not the gentle falls where you can easily catch yourself because you were only going 3 kph, but the big throws – the kind where you forget your brakes are working well and you squeeze them hard and throw yourself over the handlebars. I’ve never seen it happen, but I’m pretty sure you can do this.
And so I also fear speed. I go down the side of the mountain braking all the way, or most of the way, which is not a good idea. Your brakes wear out too fast, your hands are throbbing at the end and if you’re with anyone else they have a long wait at the bottom.
Then there is the fear of noon sunshine burning me to a crisp. This one should be easy to deal with: avoid cycling at noon. But that takes planning and organization and they aren’t always part of the outing.
At least I don’t fear Cuba, but I hope they don’t have any hurricanes while I’m there.
Invite a secret friend along
This week, as I rode my way to greater fitness in preparation for two weeks on a bike in Cuba, I remembered my old trick for overcoming fear. I invite along an imaginary friend or two and we have a steady stream of conversation where the fears keep cropping up. Wednesday the conversations went a bit like this.
Me: If I take this turn very wide to the left I can avoid those pebbles.
IF: Yes, but you’re not being honest, are you? Your bike can handle the pebbles – you’re just afraid you’ll lose your balance.
Me: That’s silly. I’ve ridden thousands and thousands of miles on a bike!
IF: Prove it then. Turn right at the next corner. Think about how you’re leaning.
Practice makes perfect
Bend taken, not under control. I turn around and do it again. I get off the bike and take pictures of some charming goats.
IF: Not great, but not too bad, that last turn. Why aren’t you petting that goat? She clearly wants you to?
Me: You go first. I can’t remember if they bite. I know they chew everything that comes near. I wonder why she’s not worried about getting electrocuted by that wire she just stuck her head under?
Goats photographed but not petted, I sail down the hill, checking behind me before I get to the next bend. No cars, so I slow down, just a bit.
IF: This is no fun. Speed up!
Me: expletive.
I go faster. I test the brakes. They are still working.
A question of balance – a little worry is ok
In the Finges Forest Reserve along the Rhone river I am feeling smug at having found an obscure but lovely little trail. Not a soul in sight. I’m enjoying this thoroughly, and wondering where exactly the river is – I can hear it but not see it.
IF: Aren’t you worried about forest fires? This is a tinderbox, it’s so dry! I wonder if ticks thrive in this kind of weather?
Me: Hey, stop worrying! But just to be safe let’s turn around and follow the sound of that water, get a little closer to the river.
Faster than a speeding bullet …
You get it. By the time I got home I had speeded up to the point where a guy called out as he passed me, “Hey lady, you’re doing 60 (kph)!” I didn’t really want to know that but smiled at him. I had sought out right turns and tightened them. And I cheered at my lack of sunburn despite riding from 10:00 to 14:00 – I was lathered in no. 30 lotion, which I re-applied several times. I was also sick and tired of my friend and her annoying conversations, so I sent her off on a hike up the mountainside while I snoozed in the hammock.
Tomorrow I work on pacing, which is fairly mindless, so I might do a mental packing list and see how much of it I remember when I get home.
A nice little bonus is finding a press release in my mailbox that says Nobel researchers have learned rats – and presumably humans – have speedometers built into their systems. “A long-sought neural ‘speedometer’ has been discovered in rats: a set of dedicated neurons that fire quickly when the rats move fast, and more slowly when they dawdle.”
No. 3 in the series, Ellen’s bicycle diaries