Bleary eyed, heading to class early in the morning, I stumble along the Scholars Walk, past the McNamara Alumni Center, beyond that steel man statue and onward toward my destination of Murphy Hall. Fidgeting with my iPod and frantically checking the clock on my phone because, yep, IâÄôm late again, all while trying not to spill coffee on my clean shirt, I reach Church Street. My iPod goes in my pocket, my phone back in my jeans, my coffee into that mesh side pocket thingy on my backpack. I canâÄôt have any distractions. I need to cross the street. I swivel my head back and forth, behind me, back in front of me, back and forth once more, then behind me again for good measure. I think IâÄôve checked every possible direction. I boldly begin my journey. Three steps in, a biker zips past just in front of me. Nice try, but IâÄôm still on my feet. I reach the middle unscathed and begin to head diagonally. Bad idea, biker number two whooshes past from behind me going 50,000 mph. He swerves around, almost falls off, but recovers gracefully, a near miss. IâÄôm three-quarters of the way across; I can taste it now. But, oh no âĦ I spy out of the corner of my eye, moped girl bearing down on me. I scamper out of her way just in time. I donâÄôt breathe again until IâÄôve made it up the stairs, in the classroom, and into my seat. In all seriousness, where are the bike lanes on Church Street? Laura Dahl University undergraduate student