Hold Your Line
My dad has competed in a number of marathons, triathlons, and one Iron Man. When I was a kid I would ride my bike with him while he went for his runs. At the time we lived in Bloomsburg, PA which is smack dab between nothing and empty. The photo above shows what a well lined road in Bloomsburg would look like.
For those of you who don’t know you are supposed to run toward traffic and ride a bike with traffic. What this meant was my dad and I should have been traveling in opposite directions, but instead we traveled with traffic. (This might have been so I didn’t get spooked when a car came at me, but I am not sure)
Dad would always post himself in a position so that a car would have to hit him first. If the road was wide he’d beside me, about a stride behind so I could just see him if I didn’t turn my head. On more narrow roads he would set up directly behind me.
On the narrow roads it was crucial that I held my line. I couldn’t waiver or I’d end up in the berm, or worse, traffic. Neither of these were safe for a six-year-old on his hand me down girls bike that had been spray painted blue. It didn’t matter what was coming toward me, or what I saw in the woods, or whatever I was day dreaming about, I had to hold my line.
The cars that would be coming at me were a full lane away. That didn’t stop me from watching them until they passed, which would cause me to drift off my line. When this happened my directional velocity would be corrected by an equal and opposite force, which got me back on my line. Through classical conditioning I learned that no matter what happens you always hold your line.
As another round of unsuccessful job hunting comes to a close, I have to remind myself that I already have my career. I am a writer, that is my line, and I have to hold that no matter what.
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