Mike took me on my first mountain bikeing adventure today. What a riot. Never in my life have I had so much fun bringing my self so close to death. I have to admit I was ashamed of myself at first. On the way up the trail I kept losing control, losing balance, losing momentum, having to dismount and walk my bike up. The path was steep and the terrain very bumpy with large stones and thick roots almost a constant. Mike showed me the line where others had traveled creating the path of least resistance. This was helpful but I still ran into sticky situations that caused me to dismount.
We came across some other riders who were walking up which gave me courage to proceed. As long as I wasn't the only pussy walkin' his bike maybe I stood a chance in this arena. We made it to a bridge traversing a stream in a high mountain valley and it was time to turn back. Jen was waiting with lasagna and a belly full of baby. We began the descent. That shit was straight treacherous. It took a little bit to get a feel for what kind of and how much abuse my bike could handle. I know now that my Schwinn Moab II, whose been with me for a decade and is my soul sister, my familiar link, is built like a tank. She rallies, bouncing over root and rock, and catching her grip where a thinner bike might fail. She cradles me in her arms of steel, clutching me tight through the valley of the shadow of death. She never let me fall as we barraled down that steep mountain pass. I soaked in the fresh, rich air, the babbling brooke that ran with us and the gnarly pines that sank their roots into rock oh so tenaciously. It was beautiful but to take it all in you had to be completely on your game, fully aware and able to swallow it all. Admittedly I was scared on the way up, but coming down I was hungrey for my own death.
At one point, after having acquired a sense for my abilities I was ready to rockit hard! I'm still surprised by how much of a beating Moab can take, but I shrug and just let her kick. The land is dropping and ahead of me there is a rock followed by a root. I plow through jumping both in rapid succession. Suddenly I'm careening towards a gnarly pine that seeks only to impale me. In midair there is little opportunity to alter direction yet I manage to drop my weight away from certain death, narrowly avoiding the opportunity to never see the light of day again. Fuckin' sweet.
Sundown over a mountain lake. This landscape takes my breath away. It's wild, sweet and cool. Stoic, the mountain defies modern man, challenging our convictions about lifes possabilities. Out here you are confronted with her naked face and you turn away, ashamed, wishing you could represent, yet knowing full well how you still bear the sins of the fathers. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, which one fills up fastest?
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