Tailwind
Today, I enjoyed the rare experience of being pushed along by a tailwind while pedaling between home and school or vice-versa.
The prevailing winds—or at least my perceptions of them—are such that, usually, either direction I go, I seem to be fighting an invisible hand.
Heading out to Bothell in the morning, the currents stream down from the north, holding me back as I grind my way to work. Coming home in the evening, the south wind blows in my face, making my pedaling cadence more sluggish with each stroke.
Today, though, I was lifted along, racing the fallen leaves that danced before me. I hardly broke a sweat even though I made excellent time, halfway convincing myself that somehow, overnight, I’d become a far stronger rider than the day before.
That’s the thing about a tailwind: you don’t really notice it, unless you do. Usually you (that is,I), just think “I rock! I’m a god!” Or wonder: ”Was there testosterone in this morning’s coffee?”
When I teach an Affirmative Action unit in the applied ethics class, I sometimes use the tailwind as metaphor for privilege. When we’ve got one, we underestimate its benefit. Conversely, when the wind’s in our face, it’s practically impossible not to notice it. In fact, we (that is, I) may even occasionally overestimate the difficulty it creates. Nevertheless, in the interest of leveling the playing field, it may be fair to give those riders who are fighting the wind something of a head start—or at least bikes that cut through the gale as efficiently as possible.
There’s an old (Irish, I think) toast that goes something like, “May the road rise up to meet you and the wind always be at your back.” A lovely sentiment to be sure, unlikely as it may be.
Still, for one fine morning I got to experience at least the latter and so, I raise my glass to the four winds in gratitude.
The prevailing winds—or at least my perceptions of them—are such that, usually, either direction I go, I seem to be fighting an invisible hand.
Heading out to Bothell in the morning, the currents stream down from the north, holding me back as I grind my way to work. Coming home in the evening, the south wind blows in my face, making my pedaling cadence more sluggish with each stroke.
Today, though, I was lifted along, racing the fallen leaves that danced before me. I hardly broke a sweat even though I made excellent time, halfway convincing myself that somehow, overnight, I’d become a far stronger rider than the day before.
That’s the thing about a tailwind: you don’t really notice it, unless you do. Usually you (that is,I), just think “I rock! I’m a god!” Or wonder: ”Was there testosterone in this morning’s coffee?”
When I teach an Affirmative Action unit in the applied ethics class, I sometimes use the tailwind as metaphor for privilege. When we’ve got one, we underestimate its benefit. Conversely, when the wind’s in our face, it’s practically impossible not to notice it. In fact, we (that is, I) may even occasionally overestimate the difficulty it creates. Nevertheless, in the interest of leveling the playing field, it may be fair to give those riders who are fighting the wind something of a head start—or at least bikes that cut through the gale as efficiently as possible.
There’s an old (Irish, I think) toast that goes something like, “May the road rise up to meet you and the wind always be at your back.” A lovely sentiment to be sure, unlikely as it may be.
Still, for one fine morning I got to experience at least the latter and so, I raise my glass to the four winds in gratitude.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:04 PM
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