As darkness settles, our senses often heighten. But we need not always fear.

Somewhere along the way, well into my 30s, I walked into a basement and stood there in deep darkness. And was not afraid.

Most of childhood and beyond was filled with trepidation at the thought of being left in a totally dark room. My brain had been filled with the idea that danger lies in darkness. That bogeymen or evil spirits might somehow get you.

Yet there I stood. Alone in the dark. A quiet clock across the room kept ticking. And nothing came to get me.

Nothing ever has. There have been many moments perhaps where something could have jumped out of the dark woods, for example, to knock me down or rob me. There have been many nights running down dark paths where strangers or thieves could have attacked. Yet none ever has.

I count myself fortunate in that regard. One should not take for granted even the basic safety of hot having been assaulted in the night. Yet even when I lived in the City of Chicago and trained through the dim passages of Lincoln Park and the lakefront, I stayed alert.

We generally fear what we do not know. This photo of a windmill at night seems like an evil creature. But it is not.

But basic fear of darkness is about more than fearing circumstance. That haunted feeling that something is near, about to get you, is a phobia that is not easy to cure. Yet mine did. Cured itself?

Not exactly. Some fear of darkness is inherent to our human condition. Anxiety might magnify it, and I’ve had my tussles in that category.

By contrast, human faith often fights the notion that there is anything to fear in darkness. I have grown in that category. Yet the lack of fear of darkness seemed a pragmatic realization as much as some spiritual release.

Now it is the cold I no longer fear as well. The cringing reaction one instinctively has when emerging outside to be hit by chill air is vanishing. It is not that I no longer feel the cold. It is that I suddenly have started feeling it differently. It is, after all, just cold air. We all know our limits in dealing with that.

Those limits vary widely from person to person. I have often wondered at the sight of an urban fisherman standing on the concrete walks along Lake Michigan on a 35 degree day dressed only in a tee shirt. I might be jogging by wearing two layers of running gear to fight off the lake breeze, and here’s this stolid fisherman, not even shivering in the wind.

People who exercise outdoors with any frequency build up a tolerance for cold over time. The 50 degree day you dread in September is welcomed with a tee shirt come spring. It’s all relative.

Something in our head changes, and our bodies go with it. We overcome our sensations, and with it go our fears. Sometimes we make a mistake and wander into a dark place where we should not go, or get caught on a run with too little clothing to fight the chill rain, or on the bike when sleet starts cutting across the open fields. Then you realize you’d better be smart and get home right away.

It’s going out into the dark or rain that marks the moment where your fears don’t rule you. That’s the hallmark of someone who has moved past their superstitions and fears to become one in control of their own mind.

When you can stand in the dark. When you can brace for the chill. And not be afraid. Run on. Ride on. Your mind leads the way because you can see into your own soul, and not be afraid. And your body leads the way because it can sense the limits of what you can do, and deliver a sane response. That’s a great place to be. Without fear.

And why is it important to conquer fears of darkness or cold? Because fear operates within us on ignorance of our true circumstance. When we get a grip on one set of fears, it enables us to move past fears of other kinds, like outlandish nervousness before a race, or fear of a hard training ride with superior cyclists. You move past your fears and move into the zone where you can sustain and compete.

These are aptitudes transferable to other circumstances in life. When disease or illness strikes. When relationships blow up. When faith abates. When failure, stress or disppointment lurk in your mind.

Learn to work with your fears, and even overcome them, and life makes more sense overall.

And that is how you learn how to best run and ride.