My good friend, Agent Zombie Slayer, took me mountain-biking for the first time last night. And by “mountain,” I mean “mostly level ground with a few dips and bumps which often caused me to brake hard, tilt over sideways, and then carefully walk my bike to the next patch of level ground.”
At least that’s how I started out… but I got better as the night wore on, and by the end of things, Agent Zombie Slayer said that I had “earned cool points” as I cruised my way down a hill that was all switchback dirt curves. At the top of said hill, he said, “All you have to do here is control your speed and ride it down.” About 1/3 of the way there, I found out that “control your speed” was a euphemism for “try not to die.”
Crash count:
- Stopped due to veering towards a large and unwelcoming tree too many times to count.
- Tipped sideways due to lack of inertia into a very welcoming thorn bush.
- Thrown headfirst from my bike only once, due to trying to go up a steep dirt hill.
Injury count:
- Small scrape on my left hand.
- Assorted scrapes and cuts all over my legs (only one that bled enough for me to notice before I got home).
- The feeling that a phantom iron bike seat is still firmly planted against my backside.
Sweet moment count:
- My first “hill” — 1′ up and 1′ down … and I NAILED it, thank you very much.
- Racing through mud puddles, getting good and splattered, and keeping control.
- The “rock garden” … a stretch of downward hill with nothing like a smooth surface. Owned it.
- Climbing that big hill (the one I got thrown from), and getting a good 2/3 up it before it got up me.
- Earning my cool points as I “controlled my speed.”
- After conquering Fangorn (the dimly lit forest) and Golgotha (the hill of difficulty), riding fast and smooth on gravel roads and in parking lots with the feeling that I had kinda really lived.
Overall, it was an amazing time. Here’s a big shoutout to Agent Zombie Slayer. Thanks for taking me, bro.
Now, if only I could get rid of the awareness of this phantom bike seat…