Defensive Cycling

When I first moved to Long Island in 2008, I took a long ride around my new town and its beautiful waterfronts. As I was casually cruising through the final tenth-of-a-mile stretch through the neighborhood, a speeding van nearly ran me over. The driver, on an oxygen tank I might add, scolded me  for riding down the "middle" of the street. She huffed some expletives about cyclists, to which I calmly responded: "You realize this is a neighborhood where kids play, and not a freeway?"  See, many impatient drivers [redundant, I know] use this side street to circumvent traffic lights. People also live here and park on the street, so I defensively tend to ride away from the parked cars to avoid the unfortunate mishap of someone carelessly opening a car door without looking for an oncoming bicycle.[Painful]  

Forget those hours of online or comedy defensive driving courses--the quickest and most effective way to learn defensive driving is to ride a road bicycle on Long Island.  From May until the end of September I will usually log more miles on my bicycle than my car. [Full disclosure: I live about four miles from my office]  Not only is cycling a beautiful way to see parts of New York, it also teaches me to be a more defensive, and hopefully more careful driver.

The first rule of the road for cyclists is to pretend you are a car and never assume the car drivers see you.  On Long Island, between the cigarette lighting, the texting, the redlight running, the honking, and the phoning, it is not difficult to figure out the cyclist is invisible. Also, when approaching an intersection, know that drivers in Suffolk County will always overshoot the stop sign and put half the front end of the car into the oncoming traffic before slowing down. Again, bikes are invisible.

Perhaps it would help to educate drivers a little bit about why cyclists do what they do. Sometimes we come out of the two-foot-wide bike lane we have been allotted and venture into the car lane. Most of the time this happens not because we prefer the car lane; it is because we want to avoid the potholes, debris, beer bottles, and roadkill in the bike lane. And sometimes cars are parked there [often  illegally] or other cyclists are pedaling the wrong way toward us. The signs asking drivers and cyclists to share the road are not without purpose.  

Now to be fair, as a cyclist and self-appointed traffic cop for the universe, I can complain about cyclists on behalf of drivers. Just because we may be in a peloton or a gaggle of cyclists does not mean we own the road. We need to share with cars, not just other cyclists.  If the urge to ride two- or three- abreast takes over for that essential roadbike conversation, at least move into single file when you hear and see a car. [By the way, New York City Traffic Rules & Regulations § 1234 prohibits more than two cyclists riding abreast]  It helps to cycle defensively: look ahead; plan ahead; and pay attention. Signal to cars where you are going and what you are doing with [appropriate] gestures, ride with traffic, and observe stop signs and red lights as a car would.  

It also helps to be polite with other cyclists.  Always pass on the left and let the cyclist know you are doing so, and the person being passed should courteously move slightly to the right to allow you over safely.  

We can enjoy the big race of life without compromising the health and safety of our selves or others.  And cars, be patient.  The fact that we are on our bicycles means we are not out on the road in our cars!

May 1, 2011 Five Borough Bike Ride

Horton Point Lighthouse
Bike Boat Bike June 2011

Heartride May 21, 2011

Watermill, Amagansett,
The Ride to Montauk
June 18, 2011

Removing the Hair Shirt

A Chinese anecdote jokes about a fortune teller who tells a client he [client] will suffer a hard life until he is about forty years old, and then the suffering stops. The client asks what happens at age forty to alleviate his suffering, and the fortune teller replies, “You get used to it.”

The funny part of the joke also contains the not-so-funny truth: When we willingly accept, tolerate, or endure parts of our life that are less than, we become comfortably numb to it. As the Eagles remind us, “often times . . . we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key.” Even if we feel the need for change, we may also feel uncertain where or how to begin. The wide chasm between where we are and where we want to be spans a void of unknown and that can render us immobile.

So, start with the known. Mentally step back and observe the known snapshots of your life. Like watching a movie trailer, you can review snippets of what key events brought you to this point. Let the momentum build to the cliffhanger of the lead character’s [your] next big move. As the scriptwriter for this lead role, what do you envision for the denouement ? You get to create the scenes where you courageously take the risk and choose the less conventional route. This less traveled road, as described by Robert Frost, makes all the difference.
 
As easy as this seems in principle, instigating change requires courage. It also requires awareness of any self-imposed suffering. I write in terms of choice because I am often reminded of a hairshirt when people share their reasons why they are not living the life they want; in other words, the reasons why they are suffering. Early Christians wore a hair-cloth article of clothing [initially goat’s hair and eventually camel hair or wire, woven into a shirt and worn underneath clothes] to "serve as an unostentatious antidote for the outward luxury and comfort of their lives." Later, during the Middle Ages, lay people used this same type of hair "shirt" as a form of penitence. Today, members of certain religious orders wear them as a rule, while others choose to wear one to do penance. See www.newadvent.org/cathen/07113b.htm.

The Keys to Unlock the Chains

Regardless of your religious beliefs or upbringing, the hair shirt is a perfect metaphor for the types of symbolic suffering we choose.*  We suffer in shame, guilt, and a variety of other physical, emotional, spiritual, and intellectual ways:

I can’t do this because...
I feel guilty because...
I am obligated to...
I should/shouldn’t...
I’m ashamed of....
 
These phrases beg the question of who you are living your life for. Who are you responsible to? If you are a parent you do have responsibility to your children; the rest of your life, though, is yours. Evaluate your excuse arsenal to determine whether your reasons are actually true or necessary and whether they serve you. You may realize you have finished doing penance and are ready to remove the hairshirt. It is time to live a more comfortable daily life for you.

As an exercise, ask yourself: What do I really want? Really want?
Ask again. And again, until you peel back those layers and laugh out loud or feel a giant lump in your throat [the truth].

Now, ask yourself: Why am I not allowing myself to have this? Make the list of excuses.  Then, allow yourself to imagine if you could have it. Visualize it in a way that embraces all five senses.  Finally, take the list of excuses and challenge the truth of them; decide you no longer need them.

Now is the time.

*The Bare Naked Ladies song lyrics for Good Boy, eloquently express the hairshirt metaphor.

Soul Meishi

While living and working in Japan many years ago I first had to learn the distinguished social art of exchanging business cards, or meishi. Unlike the informal exchanges here, in Japan the introduction of one’s profession and title importantly establishes the right degree of respect and deference owed in the relative social situation. Consequently, when receiving a meishi, one must carefully read it, honor the bearer, and treat the business card with respect. Indirectly, how the card is received tells the presenter how the recipient will treat her. This has obvious importance in a business context.

When I share this cultural tidbit with people, many seem shocked by this overt display of establishing pecking order from what they deem a trivial gesture with a piece of paper. Yet, careful observation of many social interactions exposes similar overt displays of people jockeying for a perceived status position.

For example, picture a work setting where a colleague shares an accomplishment and then someone chimes in with a better accomplishment of his own. Imagine telling an acquaintance about a wonderful trip you have planned and she responds with her own ‘better’ trip, past or future. Or, think about a family gathering where a loved one announces a recent achievement or goal. Does someone else respond with his own stories of glory days?

If you spend enough time with people, you may begin to notice how certain conversations trigger a conditioned response and you will hear them recall the same story as they continuously attempt to validate their perceived place in the group. The story is their meishi being exchanged to establish social standing.  Although in some cases classic narcissism could be at play, when an undercurrent of one-upmanship replaces normal social interaction, the one-upper usually needs validation.

Now, we can worry all day about other people’s behavior, but we can only change our own. Observing our own triggers and how we interact serves an edifying purpose: Awareness leads to an opportunity to grow.  If hearing about others’ achievements triggers the retelling of the same time-worn story, you could question whether now is the time for a challenge.  Only retelling the past leads to a groundhog-day existence and does not create new stories for future reminiscing:

          I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it
          But I probably will.
          Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
          A little of the glory of... well time slips away
          And leaves you with nothing, mister, but
          Boring stories of glory days.
                       Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days, on Born in the U.S.A. (Columbia 1984).

When we relate with others, the best moments arise in the present.  In these instances, we exchange our soul’s meishi— we share understanding, awareness, and awe at the wonder of life and of just being.  It takes practice to relate this way, but I feel grateful when I choose opportunities to do so.

All photos by N.D. Mignone. 2011.