"There is an art to flying, or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Clearly it is this second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties." - Douglas Adams, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
This is a useful knack in bicycling, too, for a couple of purposes. The first would be if you've ever had cause to suddenly grab your brake levers in a panic, causing your wheels to lock up, flip the bike end over end, and launch yourself over the handlebars in "Superman Pose." This usually results in a painful belly-flop on the pavement, though the landing can be much worse. The one time I tried this, I instinctively put my arms up to protect my head, neck and face, and ended up with only a slight scrape on my chin, but deep gouges on my forearms and elbows. Over several days afterwards, on three nights, I was awakened in the middle of the night by a dream of pavement rushing up toward my face. I woke up yelling, jerking my arms up around my head, kicking my cats off the bed. I believe these nightmares were actually a healthy replaying of the reflexive movement to protect my head and neck, reinforcing the reaction in case I ever make the same mistake again.
I was also inspired to write this comforting haiku:
Dreaming of pavement,
humming wheels, sunlight through trees.
Bicycle summer.
On a similar theme, one of the first simple lessons I learned when I started bicycling was that a bicycle tends to steer in the direction you're looking. So to steer through a narrow gateway, or past obstacles such as fire hydrants, mailboxes, pedestrians or those brown-and-yellow posts marking trail crossings, the trick is to look at the open path you want to ride on, rather than locking your eyes on the object you're trying to miss. I also found I could run over very small objects like dimes, rocks, pieces of glass, tent caterpillars, etc. by simply fixing my eyes on them, and not thinking about anything. If I tried to steer over something deliberately, I would weave around, over-correct, and miss. By just looking, without thinking, I could crush the ember off a burning cigarette and leave the butt intact. For whatever that's worth.
I wish that more pedestrians were aware of this knack, and understood that when they encounter a bicyclist on a path or sidewalk, who is staring off to one side of them without seeming to acknowledge their presence, that person is actually intending to ride past in the open space next to them, and is not oblivious or stoned or playing chicken.
