Environmental & Architectural
Phenomenology Newsletter
A Phenomenology of Commuting by Bicycle
Lin Wong
Wong recently completed the Master of Environmental Studies program at York University in Toronto. Her research focus is transit planning in Toronto and its socioeconomic impacts on different groups in the city. She attended the University of Guelph where she studied Environmental Science. She wrote this paper under the direction of University of Toronto Philosophy professor Ingrid Leman Stefanovic, and the EAP editor thanks her for forwarding the paper our way. Readers interested in Wong’s essay may wish to peruse Joel Fajans and Melanie Curry’s “Why Bicyclists Hate Stop Signs,” in the spring 2002 EAP. linwong@yorku.ca. © 2005 Lin Wong.
This essay examines phenomenologically the experience of commuting by bicycle. The essence of phenomenology is to avoid being dogmatic and caught up in “closed” definitions (Stefanovic 1994, p. 58). A phenomenon is interpreted as that which is directly evident or what immediately presents itself (Stefanovic 1994, p. 70). In this paper, I identify four “lived” aspects of commuter cycling: the “equipmental contexture,” the “equipmental whole” the “anticipatory stance,” and “bicycling as meditation.”
In developing this phenomenology of cycling, I draw on my 20-minute bike commute between my home and the University of Toronto’s main library. I supplement my firsthand experiences with commentary from several popular accounts of cycling in general and urban cycling in particular. Phenomenology recognizes that the lived meaning of the environment reveals itself within a holistic context of understanding (Stefanovic 2000, p. 69). As such, I realize that my past experiences as a bike courier influence and enhance my commuting experience on the same streets that I once rode for my work.
How did I become a commuter cyclist? I learned to ride a bicycle as a child and started bike commuting in my teens because I disliked public transit. This feeling of exasperation overruled any prospect of being vulnerable to cars and traffic, a worry that probably holds back many urbanites who otherwise might become bike commuters.
This absence of concern toward motor vehicles transformed itself into confidence once I became a successful Toronto bike courier—full time for two-and-a-half months and part time for three months. Because of this work, I now have the muscle power, speed, traffic-maneuvering skills, and spatio-temporal knowledge of the city to go wherever I want. I know how to get to destinations and how long it takes.
I doubt I could have developed these skills through a mere 40 minutes of cycling a day, compared to the approximate eight hours of daily cycling I did as a courier.
The Route
I follow my particular commuting route due to available bicycle lanes and the attractive scenery of Toronto’s Bloor Viaduct. My trip between home and the library is short but varied and interesting. First, I leave my quiet residential street to turn on Broadview Avenue, along which I contend with vehicles, streetcars and streetcar tracks, go up a hill, and take in the scenery—Broadview is literally named. I then turn onto Bloor Viaduct, which includes a bicycle lane, no parked cars, and an “astonishingly beautiful view in all seasons.” (Hood 1998, p. 70).
Once I cross Sherbourne, the Bloor Viaduct bicycle lane ends, and I suddenly enter downtown traffic with all its obstacles, challenges, and thrills. The color of the stoplights at Avenue Road determines the final two blocks of my route. If the light is red, I go south on Queen’s Park Avenue to Hoskin Avenue, where I continue west to the library. If the light is green, I continue through the intersection, going west for two more blocks, turning south to St. George for two more blocks and arriving at the library.
Equipmental Contexture & Whole
Stefanovic (2000, p. 69) explains that “while we perceive the world from specific, individual perspectives, phenomenology recognizes that… the meaning of the perceived environment reveals itself within a holistic context of understanding.” Drawing on Heidegger, she emphasizes that we do not perceive the world as a sum total of individual, discrete entities. Instead, “what is given to us primarily is the unity of an equipmental whole” and an “equipmental contexture of things.” (Stefanovic 2000, p. 68)
The equipmental contexture of cycling is the surroundings and circumstances that my cycling commute brings forth. This includes the streets that provide the path to move on, while everything that is passed along the way is scenery—buildings, parked cars, pedestrians, and the like. Any physical object that I must maneuver around or any situation that prevents me from a smooth trip is an obstacle—cars, pedestrians, street debris, traffic lights, or other cyclists. The limitations of my bicycle’s technology and body’s physical strength can also be considered as obstacles: I could have a lighter bicycle, or I could be stronger and thus go faster.
As Stefanovic suggests, we must also examine the equipmental whole of cycling, which can be considered as the bicycle and rider. I power the bicycle to move myself and my bicycle together, along with my cycling-specific apparel and equipment: helmet, cycling jacket, appropriate pants, warm gloves, cycling shoes, pannier and lock. The nature and quality of this equipmental whole is well pictured in the “Biker’s Creed” (Blackfelt 2000, n.p.):
This is my bicycle
There are many like it
but this one is mine.
My bicycle is my best friend.
It is my life….
Me and my bicycle dodge traffic.
Me and my bicycle are defenders of our freedom.
We are the saviors of my life.
Without me, my bicycle is useless.
Without my bicycle, I am useless...
The unity of the equipmental whole is literally expressed by the fact that I use clipless pedals. They fit into attachments (the cleats) on the soles of my cycling shoes. In essence, I am stuck to my bicycle at the pedal-foot point of contact. I concur with the “roadies [who] love the clipless pedals for the feeling of oneness with the bike and energy saved, especially on the hills” (Weaver 1998, p. 81). It is only when I’m powering my bicycle on the street with all my gear that the bicycle takes meaning as a self-powered mode of transport.
Cycling has a synergistic affect in that, as human energy flows into the machine, the cyclist becomes empowered. Through this moving mechanistic appendage, people gain economic mobility, a healthy lifestyle, a sense of self-sufficiency, and a means of improving their potential (Perry 1995, p. 159). Cycling is also the most energy-efficient form of transportation, using less energy per passenger mile than any other mode and getting riders “from place to place faster than a motor vehicle for distances up to 6 km in downtown traffic” (Hood 1998, p. 18).
Knowing that I’m more efficient contributes to a feeling of freedom and independence. Sometimes when I decide to race with cars and end up getting ahead, I feel powerful because I overcome my disadvantage of being more exposed and thus more vulnerable than the drivers sheltered in their two-ton machines. As such, “the bicycle can be [a] vehicle for expressing sensual physical needs for pleasure, excitement, and speed” (Freund & Martin 1993, p. 178).
Anticipatory Stance
Being human involves the lived fact that we do not exist as freestanding objects like cups in a cupboard. Rather, we are always ontologically defined as being-ahead-of-ourselves (Stefanovic 2000 p. 71), a situation well described by city cyclist Julia King:
Most of my cycling is in London and actually I quite enjoy battling with the traffic. It’s exhilarating. You’ve got to keep awake and concentrate to foresee things that are likely to happen, like cars pulling out of junctions, or turning across you... it’s good for your reaction (Weaver 1998, p.153).
As King suggests, we do not simply see—we also look and automatically prepare. Human beings encounter their world by being, in some sense, always attuned to it and open to possibilities that may announce themselves in the future (Stefanovic 2000, p. 71). This ever-present alertness is indiated by Hood (1998, p. 29), when he advises the cyclist to “watch out for and predict potential hazards on the road ahead. Check over your shoulder frequently to monitor the behaviour of cars that are overtaking you.”
Glowacz (1998, p. 62) explains that offensive cycling, or “sly biking,” as some cyclists call it, involves techniques to predict driver actions: “you feel what the motorist ahead of you will do before he or she does it, so you react immediately—without slowing down.”
On busy streets with no bicycle lanes, I stay in the center of the street so that cars won’t pass too closely and no doors of parked cars will suddenly open in front of me. I need to feel entitled to make cars to be aware of me, molding the surrounding traffic to accommodate my presence. Forester (1993, p. 295) teaches cyclists to “take the lane”—i.e., ride down its center—when a street cannot be shared safely with motor vehicles. He explains (ibid.):
Whenever you are riding as fast as or faster than traffic, take and use traffic lanes exactly as if you were driving a car... It sounds adventurous. People who don’t know will tell you it is dangerous. Militant motorists will accuse you of getting in their way. But it is the safest way to cycle.
Biking as Meditative Experience
Often in the mornings I groggily look in the mirror and think, “I need a morning wake-up ride.” Ballantine (2001, p. 243) advocates this aspect of cycling: “In the morning, instead of surrendering your existence to the vagaries of public transit or being trapped in a car, riding a bike puts you completely in charge and brings you up to snuff, stimulated, awake and aware.”
In effect, I let myself wake and warm up while cycling up Broadview Avenue. I take my time, enjoying the city skyline. The uphill exertion adds variety to an otherwise flat route. As I reach Bloor Viaduct, I’m ready to speed along the bicycle lane on the Viaduct and take in the scenery of the Don Valley.
While cycling requires concentration, there is also room for “a state of physical and mental meditation” (Alvord 2000, p. 145) As such, “commuting by bike makes part of the day exclusively yours” (Ballantine 2001, p. 243).
As a bike courier, the continuous movement allowed me time and mental space to ponder things going on in my life. As a commuter, I now don’t have as much time to “meditate,” but still “thoughts, worries and emotions tend to flow through the mind from the meditative action of cycling” (Perry 1995, p. 163) Also, “on the way home, you can have a vigorous ride to unwind from a hard day or relax a bit and take the time to explore a new bit of territory” (Ballantine 2001, p. 243).
Despite the potential street hazards I encounter on my commute, I rarely feel angry after arriving at my destination, even if something unfortunate does happen along the way. Recently, for example, I was almost hit by a passenger exiting a taxi—“doored,” as cyclists call it. In this brief moment as the taxi door swung open, I felt the effects of mental and bodily stress: the shock of potential injury and anger toward the taxi-rider’s negligence. As I continued riding, however, the upset dissipated, partly because “cycling stimulates a positive mental outlook through the effects of exercise which brings more circulation to the brain” (Perry 1995, p. 163).
While there were numerous things each day that would irritate me as a bike courier, I would tell my friends, “You just keep going. You can’t stop and dwell on someone’s stupidity because you have to concentrate on the road. Everything just rolls off your back.” ycling brings freshness and alertness to the body and mind as compared to driving or riding public transit. As Ballantine (2001, p. 243) makes the point, cycling “adds zest to your day.”
A Metaphor for Life
While cycling presents many hazards and obstacles, overcoming these challenges provides a sense of confidence that can be carried over into other aspects of living. Indeed, cycling can be considered as a metaphor for life, offering a powerful sense of personal accomplishment and autonomy. Cycling is inherently holistic, since machine and person must move together in synch. The sum is certainly greater than the parts, a point well made in the last two lines of the “Biker’s Creed”: “Without me, my bicycle is useless. Without my bicycle, I am useless.”
References
Alvord, K. T., 2000. Divorce Your Car! Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers.
Ballantine, R., 2001. Richard’s 21st Century Bike Book. NY: Overlook Press.
Blackfelt, J., 2000. The Biker’s Creed. Urban Death Maze 5, May 2000.
Forester. J., 1993. Effective Cycling, 6th edition. Cambridge: MIT Press.
Freund, P. and G. Martin., 1993. The Ecology of the Automobile. Montreal: Black Rose Books.
Glowacz, D., 1998. Urban Bikers’ Tricks and Tips. Chicago: Wordspace Press.
Heath, S., 1997. Diary of a Bike Courier. www.cs.brown.edu/people/sah/Courier.html.
Hood, S. B., 1998. Practical Pedaling. Toronto: Detour Publications.
Lea, N. S., 2001. Cycling Safety: Shifting from an Individual to a Social Responsibility Model. Master’s Thesis, University of Toronto.
Perry, D., 1995. Bike Cult. NY: Four Walls.
Stefanovic, I. L., 1994. What is Phenomenology? Brock Review, 3: 58-77.
Stefanovic, I. L., 2000. Safeguarding Our Common Future. Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Weaver, S., 1998. A Woman’s Guide to Cycling. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press.