Mercifully, I have little opportunity to consider the ground. No tensed-up panic response. No dumbfounded straight-arming of immovable objects. Both hands grasping my comfortable Wax grips to the sudden end. From the moment things go wrong to the moment of impact my every instinct is fully committed to not making the situation worse.
I’m experiencing an outcome marked with inevitability from the moment I decide to roll in. Does the rock face look a little greener than the last half dozen times I’ve hit it? Maybe. But if I can do it regularly on my rigid bike what could go wrong on the 6″ travel Kamloopsian-carbon Arrival?
At the best of times, the exit is hairy. It’s a choice between smashing through a large root that rushes up to meet me with a crushing abruptness, or dancing right and then hard left, deftly steering around it and setting up for the the next move a wheelbase later. With all the form of a panicked bear attempting to lithely dance a jig, I end up going for both options at the same time.
Two wheels; two lines.
.
*photograph by JacAttack
As I sit up my left shoulder and hip feel wet. The promise of future bruises. My fingers and toes all wiggle just fine and I flash a thumbs-up to Jac and Penny. My head somehow didn’t make contact. My palms are both aching. Deep breath. I’m as close to good as anyone has a right to be after a spill of this magnitude.
We Are One’s bike doesn’t show a sign of having been T.J. Konged straight into the ground. The fork has whipped right around but nothing is busted and I can’t even find a fresh scratch. The MaxxTerra logo on the front tire is taunting me, but between rubber, bike, and rider error I’m the only one who can truly take any blame.
I’m feeling lucky I’m not properly hurt. Jac says I handled things very gracefully and I’m inclined to take the compliment. If I’m going to properly eat sh*t it’s nice to know I’m good at it. Jac sent along this photo of me sitting at ground zero giving a thumbs up and smiling like a dumbass. At the moment I think to myself “Oooo, I’m going to write a little something about this basic mishap.” An epic tale of life on the edge. Walking away from crashes I have no business walking away from.
I’ll call it, ‘Mountain Biker Goes Mountain Biking’ or maybe ‘Eating Sh*t Happens.’