About a month ago, I attended a three-day League of American Bicyclists seminar in order to be certified as a League Cycling Instructor (LCI). Nearly half the class was the staff of the Presidio YMCA’s bike program, and what a cheery enthusiastic bunch of folks, mostly young, they are! I loved meeting them.
The class was held at the Letterman Gym in the Presidio, right across the street from George Lucas’s massive complex where they make the cool visual effects. We spent the weekend riding around and taking turns explaining to each other how to navigate upcoming hazards or traffic features, as maybe we will do for students one day, and practicing giving classroom presentations on assigned topics and providing instruction on emergency maneuvers like the instant turn and quick stop.
We basically spent the whole three days either teaching or watching our peers teach, and each time we got done presenting, we were evaluated by everyone in sight. It was a very good way to get an idea of what is effective or not, and I learned some things that will come in handy when I am serving as an instructor, though I don't know if I'm going to go so far as to get on my hands and knees and pretend to be a leg-chomping dog, though the person who did that definitely brought down the house and is also likely to be President of the Universe someday; what an amazingly radiant and vigorous person. (Rose is her name; watch out for her.)
The prerequisite class, Road I, was such a life-changing experience, I’d thought the three-day class would pile even more goodies on top of the ones I’d gotten already, but I must say it didn’t, though I certainly did learn some things. Fortunately, there was more great stuff coming; it just waited until today to show up.
At the end of the seminar, I was informed that I was now officially a League Cycling Instructor level three, and that if I want to advance to level four, when I'll be permitted to teach a class on my own, I have to do some teaching in conjunction with another LCI, and I also needed to “remediate” my instant turn, an emergency maneuver that, if properly executed, will allow you to stay next to, rather than crash into, a car that suddenly turns in front of you.
I knew that if I didn’t start that process right away, it would fall off the mental map completely, so I emailed one of the assistant teachers from my seminar, but we never ended up connecting, so when I ran into Diane S. last week at Rainbow, someone I have known and liked for about 25 years and an LCI herself, I blurted out that I needed help with the instant turn, and we arranged to meet this morning at Illinois and 16th St., where there is a whole block that is nicely paved and, at the moment, closed to traffic. It's also deserted, so no audience. Perfect spot for this enterprise.
Just before I left the house, I heard something on the radio about Woody Guthrie. Before I could rush over to the radio to turn it off—my finger was in the air, ready to stab the off button—quite a lovely piece of music began. It turned out to be Jonatha Brooke, who has released a CD of Guthrie’s surplus lyrics (he was very prolific) set to her original music. In moments, I was in tears, and I’m going to buy that CD, too, which is to say that not 24 hours after enjoying a form of Peruvian folk music, I enjoyed something that had to do with Woody Guthrie: What is happening to me?
(God only knows what I'll be enjoying next. Maybe even some of that "sunshine.")
As for the instant turn, I had figured I’d do a session with Diane, she’d tell me what to practice, I wouldn’t practice it, I’d meet with her again months later, she’d tell me to practice the same stuff, I wouldn’t practice it, and so forth; I figured that a year from now, I still wouldn’t have a decent instant turn, and would feel ashamed to boot for being such a slacker.
Well! In 45 minutes, Diane completely fixed my instant turn! She is a wonderful instructor. It was amazing and liberating. Honestly, I felt like, gosh, who knows what else I might be able to do, now that I can do this?! I’m positive it was the same feeling a person has when thinking “Maybe I’ll run for president” or “Maybe I’ll quit my job and be a full-time musician.” Why not? (Maybe I can! Especially if I TRY.)
To recap: To do an instant turn to the right, you flick your handlebars to the left, which starts a lean to the right. Then, almost immediately after doing the flick to the left, you turn your handlebars to the right, lean right, and, if all goes well, make an abrupt turn to the right.
Diane watched me do a couple and said my flick was good, but something was amiss with the follow-through. She had me do some figure 8s as tightly as possible, and after I did a few, she said they looked fine and noted that an instant turn doesn’t require turning any more sharply than that. Oh! That was encouraging news.
Then she asked how I felt when doing the follow-through, which is the crucial part when it comes to avoiding contact with the car. Did I enjoy it or did I feel scared? Well, of course, I felt scared, namely of falling down, particularly on my already injured elbow, though my fear while practicing the instant turn predates that guy hitting me.
She had me get off my bike for a moment and back away from it while holding the seat and handlebar, so that it leaned farther and farther over. She pointed out that the tires were not slipping in the least and that they still had traction, even though the bike was very far over—much farther than it ever will be when I’m on it, if all goes according to plan.
She also told me to keep my outer foot down. It seems to me that if you really have to execute this procedure, you’d have enough to think about without worrying about which foot is down, but I guessed it couldn’t hurt at least to practice it the right way, and, sure enough, having that foot down makes a vast difference in terms of confidence. It kind of makes you feel like you have something solid and stable to press against while you’re leaning the other way.
I also soon discovered that it felt very natural to have my left foot down (while turning right) but completely strange to have my right foot down (while turning left). In fact, putting that foot firmly down caused a stretch in the hip area that felt downright exotic.
Diane advised me to go ride up and down for a while in gentle S-curves while she worked with the one other student, and just feel the pleasure and flow of doing so. And it really was fun just to ride along swaying from side to side. Then I did more figure 8s, and then I showed Diane my instant turn again, and voila!
She said she would email my LCI seminar instructor, who is permanently my coach of record, though he lives in Portland, and tell him my instant turn is now shipshape.
So, a big pile of goodies indeed: a proper instant turn, a huge boost in confidence, much less fear of leaning over and tight turns, more ease, and a new sense of play and pleasure while riding. I practiced for another hour on my own, until my elbow started to ache, and then I rode home feeling like a bird aloft, swooping and arcing through the breeze.
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