Last week after whining about missing the mountains, I guess I had to do something about it. I knew it was gonna be a nice weekend and I didn't want to waste it. My ribs were feeling better (again) so I made a plan to head west on Saturday morning. The mountains called, but I didn't know which ones or even exactly what they wanted.
I got up early the next day, loaded up The Executor and headed for the hills. I thought about riding The Pisgah and taking an easy-ish/short-ish route. A bunch of my "friends" (I put that in quotes because I don't really have any) were out suffering all day at PMBAR and I thought it might be nice to see people I knew while I was out. And then it hit me...
I really shouldn't be riding at all.
And then it hit me again...
Who gives a shit.
I decided that an easier destination would be better and settled on DuPont. I know that place very well, and I could make it as easy or difficult as I wanted. I also knew the terrain well enough to figure out how much bouncing around I might have on my ribs. I unloaded the bike, got ready, and studied the map for a minute to plan my day.
Okay, I sorta had a plan. I wanted to ride. I also wanted to see if I really felt better, or if my desire to ride outweighed my desire to be healthy again.
I started climbing up a steep fireroad, immediately testing my ribs with twisting and pulling while I stood up to climb. I actually felt okay, aside from the fact that my lungs and legs were confused as shit. I was definitely out of shape and had to stop a few times, but I was feeling pretty awesome.
After a while I started feeling like I knew how to ride a bike. I was able to keep my breathing and heart rate under control too. That made it moar better. And as a bonus, I got to enjoy some of the scenery that DuPont is known for.
I'm not sure which asshole planned my route (it was me of course), but I ended up climbing quite a bit. I felt like having to work so hard to make my bike go uphill was the perfect way to test the ribs. Riding downhill is easy. I can adjust body position and use my squishy frok to make things appear to hurt less.
But climbing on a single speed? There's nowhere to hide.
After wandering around for a while, I had all but forgotten that I was injured. I felt alive again, instead of like some fat sack of crap that doesn't ride bikes for fun. Next up was the final test, a trip down one of the bestest trails out there...
I was hesitant at first. Mostly I was afraid of crashing, and it was apparent by my lack of bike handling skills. It took a few minutes to feel confident again, and before I knew it I was flying down the trail, drooper post drooped all the way, ass of the seat, and having a blast.
And then things went to shit.
Normally, I get upset about some shit like this. You know, because my bike doesn't drop a deuce on the trail and leave it. That day I felt different. I was happy to be riding again, and I had the skills to avoid riding through horse turds without injuring myself further.
I'd call it a success. It was an awesome day, and I didn't get hurt again (or more.) I'm not sure if this is "easing back into it", but...
Who gives a shit.
Horses. That's who.
Post a Comment