If you aren’t a steady reader of Kent Peterson’s blog, y’oughta be. It’s always interesting and sometimes it’s some of the best cycling writing you are likely to come across. This one caught me recently. In the prose, there’s a beautiful passage that notched immediately into my cycling mantras;
“I am looking beyond my lights, a trick that has become a habit. A wise
man taught me that to see in the dark, you must look in the dark. He
learned this in London, in the war, and taught me this on a still and
peaceful night, much like this one, many years later and several years
ago.”
I read that last Friday, and last night (Monday) on my way home from work, kept notching down the power of my headlight and trying to look into the dark.
Dumped some packages through the late drop at the Post Office and then picked up the scooby-snacks. Turning for home, I decided on an indirect return, and looped around the long way, quickly rolling away from the downtown lights, pokey and indecisive motorists and a two-cop-car-party with some poor person at a traffic stop. The illumination faded and streetlights became sparse, finally stringing along the road no longer. Just me and my Niterider, spinning the silent fixed gear of the Dawes.
I like riding at night, but have always felt as though it kind of screws you up - too frequently, it makes you amped and twitchy, as you focus on the pool of light you brought along. It seems to mess up cornering as well, as your view is too close and you end up reacting, rather than becoming part of the sweep of the roadway. But, as the overhead lamps became destinations rather than constant companions, Kent’s words rose up and reminded me where to put my focus.
The road climbed a bit, then curved and dropped, and I tried my best to nudge my eyes forward, up to that place beyond the lighted asphalt. As it found details in the dark, I reached up and pushed the button, dropping the light down to 10 watts. and when that felt too strong, to the 5 watt level. The light became a subtle assistant, alerting me to road hazards and expansion cracks. But, the comfort came from looking beyond it, until the early evening sky seemed impossibly bright, and I hummed along feeling curiously protected in the dark roadway.
I had to punch it up a couple times, once to make sure an oncoming vehicle wouldn’t decide to take the sports car line through the turns and again so as not to scare the Gatorade out of a solitary runner I overtook. But afterwards, the button got pushed, the light got balanced and I stretched my vision towards that which I could not see.
Thanks Kent!