I got on a spin bike this morning at the Y and something occurred to me. It bored me. I wanted to be outside, not stuck inside and looking at a pool. So, I went home, took my daughter out for a picnic and bike riding and then went out myself for a mountain bike ride.
I decided to go to Booker T. Washington State Park. I had been there several times before. It beat me up. If the massive roots across the trail didn’t get me, it was usually the climbs laid throughout. Especially a steep one at the end.
But I had more confidence when I tackled that trail today. I ran through the roots, except once when I got too cocky, laid up for a bunnyhop and didn’t clear.
But you live and you learn.
I kept going. Finally, I found myself at the steep hill three quarters of the way through. I started up it, fumbled a few feet up when I hit a deep root.
I looked up the hill. Every other time, I hiked the bike up it. I got back on, kept going and got about three-quarters the way up the hill and got tripped by another root. I hopped over it. Kept on going. In a few minutes, I was at the top. Yes, I fell off twice. But I made it longer and farther than I ever had before.
I got through the ride in about an hour. It has taken me an hour and a half to do that course. This time last year I rode it and felt like I was about to collapse at the end.
This time, it was different.
This time, I felt alive.