I like it when it’s technically challenging.
Lurrrvv it when you go fast and hard.
And I always wear protection.
Get your minds out of the gutter, you perv.
I’m talking about mountain biking 😉
Yup, I lost my mountain biking virginity last weekend and it was everything I hoped for.
There was the usual virgin awkwardness. I mean really. How can anyone feel confident in spandex shorts that encase a giant Freudian inspired diaper between your legs?
The answer is no one can.
But what bike shorts lack in style, and a more modern, feminist understanding of psychology, they sure as hell make up for in function. Once you’ve endured the bone numbing soreness of a bike ride sans Depends, you come to the inevitable conclusion that your self dignity is *totally* worth spandex and the ability to rest on your own arse.
(It’s a very useful way to sit down, my friend. Very useful.)
Anyhoos, Somanna’s a bit more experienced in the riding department (that’s what she said) and purchased his bike a couple of months ago. This past weekend, we opted to rent a bike for me (Shout out to Ski Country!)and headed over to Bent Creek to see how well trail riding and I would get along.
The short story? We got along splendidly. Seriously, I had a BLAST.
Read on for the longer (and more entertaining!) story.
Bent Creek is a little patch of woodsy wonderland full of hiking, running and biking trails. First up, Somanna took me on some hills so that I could appropriately regret every caloric indulgence I’ve ever made.
I know it doesn’t look steep. But let your thighs be the judge. It turns out the thighs quite often disagree with the eyes and the mind.
After some sweating and heavy breathing — wow yall, I had know idea the whole analogy to sex thing would carry this far. Impressive. — we managed to …climax?.. (too much? ok, ok I’ll stop, sorry) reach the top of the hill. Which led to the best part, THE DOWNHILL!
I wish I had more pics of Somanna on the his bike, but that requires me getting over my imminent fear of DEATH and PERMANENT INJURY long enough to photograph him.
After a couple of hours of thrills, climbs, twisty rock and root clad trails, we made our way over to Lake Powhatan where we stopped to rest our weary legs and adrenaline pumping hearts.
It really was a gorgeous evening. Very romantic.
VERY romantic as evidenced by the couple in the left side of that photo.
Buddy, she was on him like white on rice. I worried she would knock him into the lake! I was already envisioning my explanation to the local news crew about how she first suffocated him on land when Somanna suggested we move along.
we I finished gawking and trying to take not-so-obvious pictures of our madly in love couple, we saddled up and hit one last trail before heading out. After a brutal climb, where I may have perhaps walked my bike up the majority of it – you have no proof – we prepared to head down the trail.
Typically, I lead and Somanna rides from behind (don’t even go there) giving encouraging and practical advice, like “LEAN BACK OR YOU’LL FLY OVER THE HANDLE BARS!” and “QUIT SCREAMING PROFANITY AT THE CHILDREN! YOU’RE SCARING THEM!”
I contend that:
a.) it’s bear safety
b.) it’ll let other hikers / runners / cyclists know to get the bleepedy bleep bleep out of my way because clearly I lack any sort of control over this metal contraption that flies at the rate of a rally car.
However, this go round, we decided to switch it up a bit (oh my!) and let Somanna go first. (Gahh!)But not before Somanna launched into a full 10 to FOREVER minute description of the impending trail’s nuances and topographical layout.
Most of which I phased out by repeating a convincing “uh huh, uh huh. Yea, yea, got it, got it. Ok, LET”S GO ALREADY MAN!”
I am not patient woman.
I am, however, a foolish woman. Because y’all. My man warned me. He did. And did I heed his good advice?
I did not.
He told me that this trail had some “high banks” and that you could get “alot of speed on them” and maybe you should opt for the “the safe, middle trail if you felt out of control and don’t want to go too fast.”
I hope you’re picking up the foreshadowing here. Because it is THICK my friends.
I gave Somanna a few minutes head start and when I could no longer see him, I took off down the orange clay path of death before me. Right away, it was a steep decline which meant I was picking up speed and fast. Which seems redundant to say after I just wrote that. Anyhoos, after navigating some slight turns and dodging a few nasty looking roots, I saw the approaching banks.
All four of ’em.
I felt good. Sure, going fast but still feeling in control of the bike. So I thought, why the hell not? And went slightly up bank number one on my right.
Unfortunatly, bank number two was right after that, (as so conveniently happens in numerically sequenced events) and thanks to the Star Wars lightspeed boost of bank number one, I flew entirely too high into bank number two riding all the way to the edge of the embankement where there are TREES and RHODEDRON BUSHES and DIRT.
I wiped out on bank el numero two in epic fashion. (well maybe, not as epic as this guy.) After flying into the bushes and tress, I managed to come sliding down the embankment entangled in my bike and a cloud of dust and dirt.
And I was left with this.
Which is admittedly not the best picture, but let me assure you. That crash left a nice sized gash and some complimentary bruising.
Luckily, no one else saw me crash (especially the super buff couple that past us *twice* on the trails going uphill both times. Talk about diesel!).
So after a I took a moment, I made my mama proud and got back on the bike and finished the trail.
The crash was inevitable, at least it’s out of the way now. It’s only uphill (haha!) from here.
But that thrill is soo worth it!
Just like….you know, a roller coaster /chocolate/ bunny rabbits and unicorns. Seriously, get your mind out of the gutter!