On becoming more like an owl
a hoot of a tale
I got back into mountain biking only a few years ago.
When I did, it was expected that I become more like an owl.
The biggest challenge has been that faced by my eyes.
(turning my head in a circle has been easy for at least two decades)
We regularly ride at night.
The people I ride with have been doing this for years.
They can see in the dark.
They don’t need very much light at all to navigate familiar, grey topped trails.
Initially, I was severely impaired.
I could not see in the dark.
I needed a headlamp.
Recently, I’ve been out after dark with someone who rides less than I do.
I only brough one light.
You might think that after the first time, I’d be better prepared?
Naw.
Each time I did, they got to use it. They were less comfortable feeling their way through the twisty, turney path.
Me?
I learned that over these last few years, it’s not just my legs that have grown a bit more fit. My eyes are stronger too. They were desperate to let the light in, Riding off ahead in the dark, the path just appeared before me. It was the bright spot between the dark columns of trees. I couldn’t see everything, but I could see enough.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was as though I could see better without a headlamp. I could see more without the tunnel vision brought on by a human made spotlight.
We spend a lot of time with our attention captured by insistent bright lights.
Without them, we believe we’d be stumbling around in the dark.
But when our eyes are stronger and vision more clear, we can soar through the darkness, and glide over shadows, while serenading the world with an orchestra of bicycle bells.
Interesting. I have given a lot of thought to the crutch. We use light to help us see, and we need more light to see. We use eye glasses and our eyes seem to deteriorate. We use a car to run to the store and soon, walking to the store seems impossible. I saw an elderly person go to a nursing home. They were taking the bus, doing dishes, washing themselves and their ill spouse. Then, dementia. The nursing home is risk mitigation gone to the dark side. The person forgot where they were going. But did their body become impaired? Well, they became a plant. They were given a walker. Soon, they were leaning on it until they got to their seat in front of the tv where they keep the plants. After a short period, the walker wasn't enough. Fear of a fall. Not an actual fall, fear of a fall justified a move to a wheel chair. Now the plant doesn't even have to move from a standing position to a seated one when they arrive at the TV, um plant minder. Soon, getting our of bed was too much risk/effort and a sling and several people were required to get the plant into and out of bed after a day in front of the plant minder.
Yes, the plant received a few minutes of physical therapy a couple times a week; enough to look like we care, but not enough to make a difference. What they needed was to be stretched. To do bicep curls with 1 pound + weights with recorded exercise programs and create some strength. Use the plant minder for good. Yoga on the floor, balancing exercises. Residents, patients, plants would benefit from constant physical and mental stretching. But that would only be possible if we cared enough that they didn't become plants. Me, a want nursing homes to hire personal trainers and tutors. "Where are you going Gertrude? Not up for spin today? Fine, go to yoga or Tai chi. But I want to see your 45 minute physical health stamp before probiotic smoothie time at 11:30. And book club is discussing more of the work of Leo Tolstoy in the garden after lunch. It's weeding Wednesday. I know you don't want to miss that."
Fine, now I need to go for a walk.