Tag: Cycling

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Why I Bother to Drive

Monday mornings in west London are bustling with road users, lorries dropping off loads, blocking the roads, motorists, cyclists and heavy sidewalks of pedestrians, the odd one or two spilling onto the streets, all amid road works. Great, pretty much the only day I take the car out on cue. Sometimes I wonder why I bother.

In short, it is the most convenient way for me to get to my weekly hair appointment. And the truth be known, it gives me an opportunity to do some character analysis and character building.

Behind a steering wheel, I continue to learn a lot about myself, some of it is admirable and some, well that is the part I need to keep working on. That is where the character building comes in.

But first the admirable part. I feel incredibly independent when I am driving, but not at the expense of others, more on that later. The point is this sense of independence is indelibly linked to my self-esteem. I hate hailing taxis, and I am not so mad on the London Underground either. And with a broken toe, my ability to walk long distances has been put on ice but that is another blog.

No wonder I didn’t hesitate to get my UK license when I moved country’s nearly 30 years ago. Already driving for nearly 20 years, I thought my transition would go without a hitch. It did not. One failed practical test after a major fault, cutting someone off at a roundabout, and a few fender benders later, I felt traumatised but if I was going to hang on to a shred of my independence, after all I had left life as I knew it behind in the US, I needed to keep driving. So, I did.

Alongside maintaining my sense of independence, driving had already taught me some of life’s most important lessons, including how to manage a crisis, (okay, I worked in crisis management for years in New York but driving came first). Anyhow, possibly the first accident that I had as a driver involved skidding and hydroplaning. The lesson: do not panic. Control what you can and let go of the rest. Fair enough, my father, the chief defensive driving instructor for the Marines stationed in Albany, Ga, at one of the country’s largest logistic/supply bases, might have helped with the lesson but either way it came through driving. 

In addition, driving continues to help me understand the importance of interdependence. Sure, independence is great, but we cannot live in this world alone. Furthermore, driving keeps me reaching for that illusive concept of patience, no wonder I keep driving. But before you judge let me be clear, I do not do road rage, though I am provoked regularly, speed demons tailgating in a 20-mph zone, laying on their horn and all the rest. And cyclists, need I say more. Whatever happened to obeying the traffic laws and riding in the lanes that were built especially for you. Never mind, pedestrians wandering in the road aimlessly and sauntering across a motorists’ green light.

Thankfully, I am a seasoned, quite skilled driver who handles it with tact, most of the time. Here is the thing, we need each other to use the road, safely, right? So why not yield to the lessons that life is throwing at us?

Recently, after an onslaught of hazards that came to a screeching halt in backed up traffic, I let out a sigh and mumbled that I was tired and would no longer moan or be goaded into aggression. Suddenly, my car went into action, announcing loudly the energising programme that I did not even know we had. No kidding, my seat went into a lively, sports massage with blue lights flashing all around. It was terrifying. Thankfully, it responded as swiftly to my command to stop as it did the inadvertent one to start.

Honestly, this was a test of patience–AI spying on me. Trust me, I have come a long way in this area, though I still have a long way to go. I am a work in progress but if I keep driving, I have a feeling I will get there. That is why I bother.

 

 

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Listening Up and Running With Sense

My iPhone has been my running companion for the two years that I have taken up running rather seriously.  No wonder. It is the keeper of my running music, any kind of music, including gospel, and my trusted RunKeeper app.

The thought of running without it was inconceivable until this past Saturday. Case and point: last summer while running a 10K, I must have added at least five minutes to my time when the app suddenly stopped.  Though I tried to keep going without it, I couldn’t hack it, so I stopped long enough to recover the app and my running playlist.

Meanwhile my running mate, who couldn’t conceive of running with music and so on, had long left me in the blazing distance. Still I didn’t see her point and set out to prove her wrong or just different, perhaps. So while visiting Georgia, I’d hijack my niece’s phone, having installed the app there and a substitute playlist.  And off I went. No matter where I ran, I set off with somebody’s phone.

Still I struggled, perhaps lost in the music and the commands of Ms RunKeeper, blaming my pokiness on anything but the obvious. But those days are gone, at least I hope they are. After spending about three days in sabbatical without my phone, my iPad, a single device, I finally saw the device for what it was—a distraction, certainly while running.

But seeing is next week’s focus of running with sense. This week I want to talk about hearing.  Things went so well Saturday that Monday morning, I set out yet again without the phone. Okay so it was in my pocket, just in case. But the just in case never happened, giving me the opportunity to hear London running rather smoothly, to be honest.

From birdsong to the cawing of the lone black crow perched on the lamppost, I heard London wake up. To one side of me, though I kept my head away from sooty, low waters of the Thames, I focused on the sounds of the water crashing against the gravelly shore.  For a moment, I fancied myself miles away on a remote island.

But the idea of running with sense is to stay in the moment and so I returned and further up the riverbank heard the splashing sounds of the river bus speeding along. At Battersea Bridge, I stopped and closed my eyes, listening to the thudding sounds of buses crossing, motorcycles vrooming and car engines purring and droning.

And to the other side of me, I heard the whooshing of wind passing through the trees and the rustling of leaves blowing about on the ground. All the while I sensed a calm flowing through me, even when I heard the odd sound of a banging and buzzing. The construction work was underway. Still I knew London was running smoothly. How refreshing!

Near and far I heard the striking of feet against the pavement, some running and others walking and dogs lightly trotting along, if you will. At one time, I heard my own rhythm so acutely that I was sure it must have been the sounds of another but it was mine, so I basked in it.

Then it dawned on me that scarcely a sound of the human voice was to be heard and there was something sobering about that, if only for a moment, though I heard one commuter whispering into her phone—the others going about quietly and purposefully, particularly cyclists. Speaking of cycling, did you know the turning of the wheels of a bicycle makes a lyrical sound, much like mosquitoes singing in the night? Me either.

And then they came, a class of school children running without sense if you will. They giggled, they chattered, they panted, and they shushed one another. But still it was a lovely sight to see.  They were running, really exercising! But that’s another story. Righty ho. Next week – Looking Out: Running with Sense.