More Than I Can Chew

I'm going to admit it right now, with this Adventure Race, I bit off more than I can chew. I have (rather unsuccessfully) been trying to acquire some mountain biking skill before the Nov. 6 race. While I thought it was something I could do with a little practice, I realize now I am in way over my head.

I haven't quite figured out if I'm going too fast or going too slow or if I'm just too stubborn and trying to ride through large, jagged rocks that I should not be riding through. I fall. I fall a lot. In fact, on Saturday, if I fell once, I fell at least two dozen times. I managed to re-open the cuts on my right leg and I also managed to fall squarely on the end of my handle bar. That one left a perfectly round mark and bruise on my chest. It didn't knock the wind out of me, but it was close. Ironically enough, it hit me in the same place that I was hit one time by a golf ball. But that's another story.

I was doing well, actually. I had gone out by myself last week and then MO and I went out on Saturday. We were having a blast and I was doing well until the Dreaded Red Trail. It is a rocky and twisty new section of trail and that trail clearly had a bone to pick to me. I fell once, twice. Then I got frustrated. The more frustrated I got, the more I fell and the more I fell, the more frustrated I became. I was on the verge of tears (and I'm not a cryer) so about 1/2 mile into the trail (yep, that's all it took - 1/2 mile) I told MO I was going back. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. There's no crying in mountain biking. I didn't cry.

Almost back to the trail head, and on a much easier trail, I fell for the last time. That was when I landed on my chest. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But I was not going to cry. Instead, I was doubled over in the middle of the trail, gasping and wheezing and cursing at that stupid rock. I gave up and walked a good portion of the trail back in. Not my best moment, but I was scared shitless to go over another rocky section and I could walk faster anyway. I hurt, I was bleeding, and covered in bruises.

So yeah, more than I can chew. Every time I rolled over Saturday night, I groaned in pain. At least my chest doesn't hurt as much. John told me if I wanted to start doing 2-a-days, he would beat me with a stick before bed. The good news is that we also practiced orienteering and that part, I loved. I can rock a topo map and hold a wicked bearing. So I will be holding up my end of the bargain. I just hope MO brings enough bandages.

Watch out for that Tree!

My second time out on a mountain bike was slightly less successful than the first. I was riding out at Shawnee Mission Park, which is much more technical than the River Trails we were riding last weekend. I had a slight misunderstanding with a small tree. It wasn't a crash, but we were both trying to occupy the same space at the same time, and if you remember anything from physics, you know that just isn't possible. The tree won. I'm still not very quick to get re-clipped in to my pedals either, which can cause problems. Right now, I would say my skill level is just slightly above that of a drunken monkey. Ok, maybe not that bad but I have a long way to go.

I have to admit, I know next to nothing about mountain biking and I have WAY underestimated the concentration, skill, and athleticism that mountain biking requires. Not to mention the risks involved. Mountain bikers are serious bad asses, and I totally understand why they think road cyclists are pansies. Cuz we are.

Bumps and bruises aside, I am having a ton of fun out on the trails. I love being outside and I love adrenaline, so this is an awesome combination for me. I think I'm going to try to continue mountain biking into the winter as cross training for Rocky. That seems like a more-attractive option than biking on the road in the winter or sitting on the trainer. Just what I need - one more sport!