Redemption in Rampart
A mountain biker since the mid-90s, I began to moto only two years ago. Learning to ride a dirt bike was much harder than I ever imagined. Someone (I can't recall who, but a fellow mountain biker to be sure) had me believing, "the motor does all the work."
It doesn't.
In between the weight of the bike, roar of the engine, encasement of gear, speed required to navigate slope and obstacles, along with a scary new world of hand and feet controls ... I found myself unnerved, exhuasted, tossed, and bruised. Often.
I wrestled successfully (and more often, unsuccessfully) through attempts to stay firmly planted on foot-pegs, while desperately trying to hang on and find center on what felt like a mechanical bull welded to a jet engine. Over- and misuse of the front brake was a frequent rookie mistake; one that body-slams a person into the ground faster than Lawrence Taylor in a bad mood.
My first two years learning to ride were spent exploring some of the most beautiful and remote spaces in Colorado, Utah, Nevada and California. They were also spent being scared and tired, physically and emotionally ... and within that mix, I learned a few things.
Most importantly, this:
When you find yourself in the middle of Beautiful Nowhere, instantaneously and unceremoniously pinned under a metal heap weighing more than you do, there is only one way forward:
- Crawl out from under.
- Get the rubber-side down, using whatever leverage you can muster.
- Shake the sweat (and as necessary, tears) out of your goggles.
- Wipe the dirt from your mouth.
- And kick your glorious machine back into life ... again
- No matter how tired you are.
___________________
This sport is humbling, exhausting, sometimes terrifying; and one day ... liberating.
After what can feel like an eternity, instead of fearing the rut you start seeing (and swooping!) the three-inch traction-ribbon that screams for you from the top of the bank (it was just sitting there, all the time). Rather than riding the brakes, you learn to let off the throttle and use terrain to shave off speed. After mastering what were once foreign tools, you find that subtle and intelligent finesse is strong and stable; while learning that over-controlling (anything) is not only exhausting, but counter-productive ... too.
Then one day, you find yourself riding the bike, instead of the bike riding you — and that is a very good day.
This is a photo of me earlier this summer, at the bottom of a feature on 770 trail in Rampart Range. The move is tricky, tight, and very intimidating — to me.
I did not make this feature that day.
But I made that feature, yesterday.
The best sports are a lot like life, teaching us nothing good comes without discomfort, exhaustion, and self-doubt that requires us to stand up — and through — fears and limitations that feel like they're set in stone.
Until one day ... they’re not.
___________________
I'm Michelle. I am a REALTOR?, Notary Public, and Certified Negotiation Expert? who provides real estate expertise and reliability to people in Denver and Jefferson Counties. Learn more about me here.
Schwingstate, LLC, 1990 Depew St Box 147047, Lakewood, Colorado CO 80214 | Phone (303) 638-8711 Email: [email protected] @schwingstate on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter
? Copyright 2017, Schwingstate, LLC, All rights reserved.