The Parable of the Mountain Bike...

So, I haven’t been on a bike of any sort in many, many years. I believe the last time I had such an experience was with an ill-fitting bike my dad had fixed up out of our garage. I rode to the park, around the track, and back home. My Ischial tuberosities (“butt bones” in layman’s terms) were so bruised and sore for days after that I swore then and there never to get on another bike again. 

Now here I am.

Believe it or not, I, Socorro Smith, have just completed my first mountain biking experience. Crazy, I know, but it’s true! So, this isn’t really a parable, but I had some thoughts as I was hurtling down rocky hills at speeds I was very uncomfortable with, and thought I ought to share :) I will admit I was very anxious about this trip down to Moab, and frankly, I was looking for any reasonable excuse to get out of it. Unfortunately, I love my hubby too much and I didn’t want to disappoint him or be separated from him for four days. So I went, determined to try it out and to try to have the best experience possible. 

When we got to Moab one of the first things we did after setting up camp was pick up the bikes from the rental place and give them a test drive around the parking lot. I realized at this point that my fear of heights includes being a couple feet off the ground and moving any faster than walking speed. I also realized how very out of practice I was with the whole “bike thing”. I was told that we would start with an “easy” trail, but when I considered the fact that I felt so shaky riding in the parking lot, it wasn’t much comfort. 

The next morning (7 a.m.-ish) we arrived at the top of the "mountain" we were to bike down.  I strapped on my helmet, jumped on my bike, and off we went.

As the trail started slope more and more and began to get more and more rocky, I got more and more tense.  For the first hour or so the trail was fairly regular except for these little fist-sized rocks that were strewn all over the path.  From my limited (and painful) experience with my bike as a child, I knew that if I hit one of those little rocks my bike would go skidding out of control and I'd fall and get hurt.  So I spent the first hour or so with my eyes focused on the path directly in front of me, watching for those little rocks and trying desperately to avoid them.  Eventually the path was so rock filled that I couldn't avoid hitting them anymore.  And I didn't fall.  I realized at that point that I was riding on a very nice mountain bike with some awesome suspension that was built to handle those rocks (yes, that IS why it's called a mountain bike), and not the kind of cheap-o kid's bike that falls over when you try and get up on to the curb.  With this reassurance I started looking around and realized that for that hour of focusing on the path, I'd been missing all the wildflowers along the path and the amazing scenery that Southern Utah has to offer.  I started to enjoy myself a little more at this point and take in everything I'd been missing out on.

It was a short lived relief, however, because at this point the big rocks started coming at me.  The path itself began transforming from a dirt road with some little rocks on it, into a road made up almost entirely of big lumpy rocks.  It was a very bumpy ride.  I was afraid (once again) that I would fall down if went very quickly over these big rocks on this slopping trail, and at times I felt as if I would fly straight over my handle bars. So I slowed down and kept squeezing my breaks to the point that my wrists and my hands were cramping and getting tired.  I finally just had to let go a little bit and go faster than I was comfortable.  Guess what, once again, I didn't fall.  I had to pay more attention and work to control my bike, and it was a little stressful, but also a little exhilarating to go down those rocks on my bike that was built to handle them.  

I did eventually fall down on this particular trail, but it wasn't exactly where I expected.  I was getting pretty confident and going pretty quickly over the bumps and jumps in the trail when I got to the steepest hill I'd come to yet.  I started down the hill and realized a little too late that I should have slowed down more before I got there.  The trail down the hill looked smooth enough, with just a few big rocks scattered through out the trail, but as I tried to break and slow myself down I realized there was an element I hadn't considered.  The patches on the hill that looked smooth were actually deep patches of loose sand.  As I tried to break, my bike hit the sand and my bike wobbled and I went tumbling over and had to jump off my bike.  I fell on some of the rocks in the path and bruised  my hip and legs, and then my bike fell on top of me and cut up my poor legs.

Luckily, at this point I was getting over my fears enough that the fall didn't totally put me off biking, but the next hill almost did.  The last test of my poor struggling will was the last couple of miles of trail.  I was getting tired, so even just riding along the level portions of trail was getting to be too much for me to handle, but the trail seemed to be sloping up more and more often.  Eventually the trail was mostly just hills going up and up and up.  I had to get off my bike and rest every few minutes because my legs and lungs were threatening to revolt. Luckily my dearest Karl was willing to walk with me when I couldn't make it up the hills, and rest with me when I couldn't walk any farther.  After another two miles or so of this (and of thinking I was just going to fall down and die) we eventually made it back the parking lot where we left the cars.

So, the moral of this story...

1. In life (as in mountain biking)  I tend to stress over little problems and focus so much on the little day-to-day things that I miss the "wildflowers" in my life that I'm passing by.  I had a lot of painful experiences in my past and I've let them make me overly cautious and overly prepared for things that most of the time never even end up happening. I am built to handle the little things, and I am much more capable of handling problems now than I was when I was younger.  Caution is good, but I can't let fear control my life.

2. Big problems and major changes in life are stressful and always will be, but they can also be exciting and exhilarating if I can let myself  "go with the flow" more and not try to control everything so tightly (I definitely have some control issues).

3. The times I need to be most cautious are the times when everything in my life looks "smooth".  I tend to get complacent when things seem to be easy, and that's when I'm most likely to"fall down and get hurt".

4. Sometimes it's ok to walk, and sometimes it's ok to take a rest. I know that I will always have my dearest companion right by my side.  I know he's willing to stick with me for better or worse and that he will be right there beside me no matter what.  I love him so much I can't even begin to express the way I feel about him.  I'm so incredibly grateful that I found him and that he chose me.

5.  I still hate bikes.