Staying in my lane

 This isn’t just something someone says about others who micromanage or who are bossy, we cyclists say it about trying to stay alive.

While at the hiker/biker campsite at Sunset Bay St. Park I chatted with some hikers doing the Oregon Coast Trail. The woman said that at one point she was walking through a tunnel. These are tunnels shared with motorists. Supposedly if a button is pushed they have to slow down for walkers/bikers—except she related a story of how when walking through she’d made it almost to the end when a logging truck whizzed through with barely enough room for her and all its axles etc. Her husband was taking a video and we watched her face crumple in terror.

By that point it was funny—sort of.

They talked about hyper vigilance, focusing on only what is ahead and immediately around you. Cyclists call it staying in your lane or taking a lane. I’ve taken up a whole lane when going down hill as I’m not going to be hurtling down a mountain pushed off to the side. I’m almost up to a normal speed going downhill or if not someone can wait till I clear the elevation or at least pass me safely. Most motorists know how to do this—except for the few who have mental/spatial problems.

Which come to find out is like one out of ten.

Nevertheless, I can only control the space I’m in—and not even that. I certainly cannot manage the road or road rage. I can only take responsibility for what is right here, for right now. So even if cars, RVs, RVs pulling RVs, logging trucks are right next to me, I have to ignore them. Trust, if even for that moment, that they will stay in their lane and me in mine. If we can all just manage this one pinch point then we can come out on the other side.

I’m currently reading a book by Norwegian adventurist Erling Kagge called Philosophy for Polar Explorers. Kagge from what I can gather was a disciple of environmental theorist and activist Arne Næss.—Strange connection: when traveling in 2009 me and my husband stayed in Næss’ former office via a couchsurfing arrangement/ I say former because Næss died only a few months earlier. Our host said Næss left him his boots. He showed them to us and then tried them on and walked around in them. Something symbolic there, and profound 

Anyway, in the book Kagge relates a story of summiting Everest and being on a tight ridgeline. Dropping off steeply was Tibet on one side and Nepal on the other. If a climber took one misstep they’d be at the bottom of the world without anything stopping them. Kagge also confesses that he is afraid of heights. He is climbing if not with his eyes closed at least not looking down. He has trained his eyes as well as his mind.

“Looking down to the right, and just to the left. Making up my mind not to do so again. On those occasions when I did have to look straight down, I simply blocked out all thought of what could happen.”

I have experienced this very thing. The lens closes tight and all I can see is directly ahead. If I worry about the traffic, big rocks, tire-eating divets, debris in the road plus all of the nebulous what ifs—then I’d certainly be a goner, but all I have is now. This moment, and I’m only responsible for the space I’m inhabiting. Good lessons for life.