I rode Mike's Schwinn Homegrown mountain bike today. It's older than our relationship - a real classic, great bike. I haven't ridden a mountain bike in about 5 years but I was feeling a craving to try it again. Maybe I would like it this time...so many of my friends do. We headed out to Superior and found a great beginner trail. A little rocky in places, very green and some fun little climbs. This was a baby training ride for sure. Entry level. blah blah blah.
We were out for about 2 hours as I started to really get comfortable with the huge differences that compare to a road bike. Mountain biking is freeing. You don't have to worry about getting hit by a car. But it does come with its own set of same dangers...loose rock, tree roots, severe drop offs. But it's so much prettier than the road.
I was doing great and with about 5 minutes to go, and I could literally see our car, I bit the dust. hard. Completely crashed in an extremely rocky and windy road section. First on my left side. I held back the tears and dusted myself off. Got back on the bike. Challenged myself to finish this on wheels, not foot. Not more than 30 seconds later. BAM! Again, down. This time on my right. and there was no holding back the tears. I started bawling. Cursing the rocks. Cursing the bike. Cursing Mike for thinking I could do this. I walked my bike in and limped alongside it. I was aching. My butt. My outer thighs. My ankle. My arm. Why the hell do people love this sport so much? It's so dangerous!
...and about 2 hours later...I started thinking, when can I do this again?!
|My bloody paw|
|My left arm...ouch!|