Friday, July 20, 2018
By:
There’s something oddly satisfying about achieving a qualitative personal goal. It’s not one that’s like “I’m going to learn today” or “today I’m not going to say anything negative,” but those really specific, palpable ones. “I’m going to eat 1 whole Chipotleburrito in this single sitting,” or for me this summer, “I’m going to bike at least 100 miles over the course of one work week.”
Being 13 miles one way, this goal requires 4 days of commuting. Between tours and thunderstorms and flat tires and whatever else, I haven’t gotten a week in yet where I’ve done it. This week was going to be the week. No tours. No rain that I couldn’t handle. Nothing could get in my way.
Here’s the story. I hop on the bike to go home Thursday night; 5th gear feels a little wonky in an unfamiliar kind of way, so obviously I just click into 6th gear. Out of sight, out of mind. Problem solved. Until three miles later when you need to downshift back into “wonky gear” to go up a hill. Ker-plunk. A couple disconcerting noises and chain smashing strokes later and I’m off the bike, inspecting. Excitingly enough, the piece that attaches the derailleur to the bike (the hanger) has apparently snapped in half. Mostly impressed that that’s a thing that happens, I whip up an exit strategy. Luckily, I’m not far into the Anacostia trail and it’s only a 10-minute walk to the nearest road and a couple miles to the nearest metro. “I’m not gonna call…” I mumble as I try to find the quickest way to walk my bike. But the pulley on the derailleur seems unhappy with its new configuration and soon enough the bike refuses to even walk beside me anymore, as if to protest such foul treatment.
But do I throw the towel in here? Oh no. “I’ll just take apart the derailleur so the chain doesn’t have to go through that part!” I laugh deliciously as I pull out my little Allen wrench tool. By this time, I’m on the side of the road, on my knees getting black grease all over myself.
I’m not sure if it was the obscureness of the gas station I was next to, or the less than cheery forecast google maps showed me for my ETA, but I cracked. I call Brad, and of course, he dropped everything he was doing to pick me up, even taking me to a bike shop and driving me home to GW.
Why can it be so difficult to put our pride behind us and reach out? In endeavors of multiple facets, I must keep being reminded of this lesson: it’s okay and necessary to ask for help. Science is no exception. In theory, it is the most humble human and collaborative undertaking. I have to reconcile with myself every time before deciding to ask a “stupid” question to someone I look up to for the sake of understanding. Every time we humans think we are the center of something, we come to find only that we are at a more obscure “corner” of the universe than ever. We have to constantly be reminded as a community that our island of knowledge is tiny, as we stand surrounded by a boundless ocean of ignorance. But, from a social perspective, vanity, fear of judgment, and the apparent notion that “science progresses one funeral at a time” barricades humans from accelerating scientific advancement. Our species seem to be our own double edged sword.
I envision a world where humans collaborate and willingly offer, accept, and reach out for help when needed, where scientists and the like can collaborate with transparency without fear of perishing. As I look at myself in the mirror, I know that change starts with myself.
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To flip this 180 degrees: another lesson from this is to never take yourself too seriously! Plans and goals will get muddled, and you should still set them, but you have to laugh it off (actual laughter is encouraged) when life throws a wrench in them, as it inevitably will do.
Amanda Williams