four days three falls

I am not a mountain biker.

have I said that before?

some would tell me I need to change my thoughts and words to "I am a great mountain biker" and then I would become one . . . however, I believe in speaking the truth.

I am not a good mountain biker.  yet.

the white rim trail is a jeep road that takes one from the top of Canyonlands National Park down the side of the colorado river gorge--about 1500 feet down--where a trail winds along another "rim" another 700 feet or so above the river itself.  there are campsites along the trail---every 10 miles or so---and the campsites we had permits for were all in the first 30 miles of trail.  therefore, we did an "out and back," retracing our path on the final day for our exit.

during our descent down the gorge I squeezed my brakes so hard I thought my hands would give out, and I experienced more than a little bit of fear.  picture a road cut into the side of the grand canyon wall . . . this is how we descended.  thankfully the road isn't technical;  it's just darn steep.  I survived.

after we set up camp we went for an exploratory ride, searching for the "thelma and louise" jump-off spot, looking over cantilevered edges down into the winding river far, far below.  I kept up pretty well on the uphill, and got skunked on the downhill.  call me chicken:  I retain a bit of fear about falling.

funny, that.

the second day we rode to our next campsite, then went out on another exploratory ride, during which I encountered a slightly-too-technical-for-me uphill and . . .  I fell.  just a little fall, the kind that happen when you're barely moving and then all of the sudden you're no longer moving and gravity pulls you down.  of course it was onto my left side--the injured side--but I gained little more than a few scrapes and a lovely bruise on my left hip.  

that night I fell again, but it was only off my air mattress while I was trying to fall asleep.

the third day we hiked from the white rim trail to the top of the gorge, as a third of our party had to leave and this was the quickest way to get them back to their cars which were parked at the top.  again, picture a narrow trail cut into the side of a grand canyon wall . . . with thirteen of us hiking up it, the toughest (not me!) taking turns carrying the 5 mountain bikes that had to be hauled up. unbelievably tough, these friends of mine.

the final day I fell again.  squirrelly sand got me, sucked my tire in then sent me off the road . . . this time, however, I fell on my right side.  whew.  a little scrape, some sand in the mouth, another blow to the ego . . . but that was all.

so, four days, three falls.  I wasn't always comfortable on my bike this trip, in fact, a significant portion of the time I was anxious and even a bit afraid.  I didn't want to get hurt; I didn't want to fall.  but fall I did.

it's said that growth occurs only in the area outside our comfort zones.  neale donald walsch (conversations with God) goes so far as to say life begins at the end of your comfort zone.  

I have a long way to go to become a great mountain biker, and I might never get there.  but if I don't spend some time outside what is safe and comfortable, I'll never get one bit better.  just as babies fall hundreds of times before they become consistently stable walkers,  I guess I'll keep trying, risking, and occasionally, falling, as I continue my own growth through this life.

life begins at the end of your comfort zone.
yikes.  I'd better get moving.

the bonita

my cycling life began with a bonita.
white with blue trim, solid and sturdy, with shiny disc brakes, the novara bonita was the mountain bike I chose back in the spring of 2005, replacing the bike I'd had stolen out of my garage a few months earlier.
the bike that had been stolen was a mountain bike, and all I'd ridden as an adult were mountain bikes.
however, I lived in suburbia and needed to fit rides in between work, kid activities, and keeping my single-parent household functioning, so my rides started at my driveway and made loops that returned me home within 45 minutes or so.
then I moved closer into the city, and decided to get a little more serious about riding.
which led to more uphill, which led to the canyon that's mouth was 2 miles from me, emigration.
which eventually led to my purchase of a road bike.
cycling up the canyon on a road bike was much more freeing, and soon I discovered dozens of other routes that left from my driveway and returned me there, eventually.  I became a roadie.

the bonita stuck around, though, and I continued to ride it once a year, sometimes even twice.  I am not much of a mountain biker, having spent most of my time pedaling the bonita on roads instead of dirt.

where bonita and I will soon be

but now the bonita is getting ready for a trip, and I get to go with it.

this friday we leave for the white rim trail in canyonlands national park....and we'll be traveling with people who are expert campers and mountain bikers.  me and bonita will be trailing along behind, doing our best to hang in there and survive.  we've mountain biked a bit in the moab area, but never for four days straight, and never while camping.  I think we're both going to get dirty.

many of my friends enjoy mountain biking, primarily because it gets one away from houses and cars and out into nature.  I just need more confidence, and gosh darn it---confidence seems to come from experience!
the more I get out on those trails and ride that bike, the more comfortable I'll feel, and the better I'll be.  I'm afraid you can't learn to ride over rocks and tree roots until you actually get out there and ride over rocks and tree roots.  and sand.  and slick rock.
so we'll see what this coming weekend teaches me.
it may teach me that I enjoy mountain biking, that it's as great as being on my road bike.  it may teach me that I'm a better rider than I think.
or it could teach me that I could use some more practice.
or that road biking still has my heart.

bonita and I will be heading to the white rim trail with open minds, and a commitment to fun and adventure, no matter the speed or finesse.
and what matters most, as my mountain biking friend leslie says, is that we all
keep the rubber side down.

back at you next week, with tales, I'm certain!