The next day was kind of special because a bunch of us got to ride Owassipe. This is my favorite trail, but it is no longer open to the public. While I was waiting for people to finish getting ready I joined the school of sharks that were swirling about. As I am swirling I decide I should try to pop up onto the curb. Why I always have an urge to do this kind of stuff on concrete, I cannot explain, but I do, so it usually winds up a bit bloody. I'm okay with this. Staying true to form, most of my injuries happen pre-ride. I'll blame this one on an assumption I made about Jack, as well as not knowing my own strength.
It was just a 4 or 5 inch curb. I wasn't trying to hop it. I was just trying to gingerly get up on it. I approached it very slowly and lifted the front end up onto the curb. Things felt really good and there was no cause for alarm. That is until evidently the combination of Jack's feather weight build and my strength were a bit much. I realized this as I lifted up his ass, and it went over my head. Of all the bikers swarming around that day, not one saw it. Slow Poke came around his van having been alerted by the sound of metal on concrete. It was sheer grace in motion and he missed it. Lucky for me, because it appears this guy is in the habit of recording these biking type excursions. Beautiful. As I am laying there with my feet still clipped in, half on my side, with my butt popped up in the air, I ask him if he saw it. “Unfortunately not!" It's always good to know that people are looking out for your best interest. He did redeem himself by giving me a band aide to cover the tip of my middle finger that got rubbed off through my full fingered gloves. Good thing I got those.
As I am bandaging myself up he and my new friend Becky (Who is new to mountain biking, I mean super new. This was her first time!) strike up a conversation about safety, all the bad things that could happen, and not wanting to crash. Here I stand bleeding before them, trying to grasp what they are really saying, having just done a cartwheel on my bike. They say things like "I don't want to break anything" or "I am to old too go hurting myself". Listening to them talk about their fears, I blurted out "I was doing this stuff when I was a kid. Going down is part of it. I have accepted that." Then I pulled my gloves back over my bloody finger, thanked God for the pain, gingerly walked Jack up that curb again, (successfully) hopped back down and said, "Let’s go see if we can break something!" Becky said something about a bad influence. I'm not sure who she was talking about.
Now, I don't like getting hurt anymore than the next person. I try to be careful and ride smart, but things happen out there. I broke some ribs last year on a night ride. I endo'd so hard that I blew out the bottom of my shoe, but that's another story. I don't like having to take breaks either. I raced Pando with broken ribs. I could still feel them at Iceman. On Sunday as we headed for the single track I understood on a different level what they were talking about. They are talking about not being willing to suffer. They were talking about the aftermath of falling, the potential injury and the wounded pride, not the fall itself. As I stood there this silly little image of a mangled cart with a horse sniffing around behind it flashed in my mind. Isn't this essentially what we are doing when we live in fear? I think that the cart is less likely to crash if you stay in front of it.
I just remember how sick and stagnate I was when I was afraid to even try anything. I liken fear to being taken prisoner. A favorite quote of mine is taken from a book called "Mans Search for Meaning" by Viktor E. Frankl. He was a psychiatrist who was taken prisoner during the Holocaust. It goes like this: "The prisoners were only average men, but some at least, by choosing to be "worthy of their suffering" proved man's capacity to rise above his outward fate." These days I just accept that I am going to suffer. I've been through some senseless experiences in my day. I have suffered much at the hands of others, and even more at my own. I have an overwhelming desire for it to mean something and not go to waste. So guess what? That requires being willing to fall, which means I will suffer some more. I am going to get hurt, but it sure beats the pain of numbness. It beats the torment of not trying, and it sure as hell beats lying awake at night constantly wondering how things "might" have been, if I had only tried.
I am riding a new trail today. I am pretty sure I am going down. I am pretty sure I'll fall hard. I'm thanking God in advance for the pain. I went for years trying to numb out emotionally. For the most part I succeeded. It's kind of ironic that now that my body is slowly going numb, my heart is coming alive and right now at this very moment, I know I don't truly have to fear the fall. It's not a free fall into nothingness. Like the hand of God, the earth will be there to break it. It seems as though the aftermath of a fall, really just makes us more acutely aware of what was there all along. I mean think of it this way. If I hadn't of made the mistake of kicking Jack too hard in the ass, I might not have found out that if I just guide his head a little bit, the rest of him will follow suit. I wouldn't have got to feel something other than numbness in this left middle finger of mine. Although I can’t feel it so well, it’s been there all along. It actually hurt. Pain can be a good thing.
In response to one of my more Emo post, Puppy sent some kind words to me. Another favorite quote to add to my list goes something like this: "There is nothing I can say so let’s talk about bike parts. Do you know why Shimano brake levers rock? Because they are made out of forged aluminum. Shimano has these amazing 6000 lb presses that squish aluminum to form a brake lever. Somehow this forging makes the aluminum much stronger; therefore they can make the levers thinner and lighter and still they are amazingly strong. There are no better levers out there. Sure, CNCed levers look sexy but they are not as good as Shimano's. I imagine the levers themselves don't like being forged. It must hurt like hell during this process. But forging makes them better off in the long run. And the person who gets them is better off too."
What a gift. Thank you. I pray someday I'll be worthy of it.
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