Claire’s fallen off her mountain bike plenty of times. There have been bruises, there have been tears. Usually tears of panic, but also tears of pain. I regularly say that if my extended family had a coat of arms, our motto would be ‘If You’re Going To Be Dumb, You Have To Be Tough’ and The Clairebarian never-is-not expressively over me saying it when she thumps herself. But that’s mountain biking, right?
In the years we’ve been riding together, she’s only scared me, her papa, twice. The first time was back riding 20″ wheeled bikes. Her rigid-forked Early Rider. She attacked a steep uphill rock she’d seen her friend Derek clean, only with decidedly less oomph. Near the top, she started to loop out, and I was sickly-certain she was going to come over backwards onto her head. Terrifying.
But, at the time, somewhere around seven years of age, Claire had one real advantage over anyone else that I regularly rode mountain bicycles with. She simply did not have a fully developed concept of gravity. And so as she started to loop, she turned her front wheel and managed to somehow 180° on the rock face and ride back down. She looked more than a little maniacal, and has never attempted that line again uphill in the years since, but she escaped unharmed.
{For my pack-less friends, the Made-In-BC Haf Clip is also a great way to carry that extra layer you didn’t need – this time. I’ve been noticing them on more and more shop counters, and more and more bikes on the trail, so I guess folks are buying into the idea?}
The second time she put me in a tizzy was the third attempt of a rock roll on Bear Mountain’s Lorax trail. She’d ridden it perfectly twice, with my spotting, and decided that she was good to go if I wanted to take her photo.
I watched through the lens as Claire drove her Marin SQ24″ towards the rock at thrice the speed she’d been going and towards a completely different line, creating the only crash she truly remembers. I watched her face go from confidence to confusion to consternation. And then we sat together and picked up the pieces.
{Eating Sh*t On Papa’s Watch, 2023}
I bring these specific moments up because Claire had her first real mountain bike crash tonight. Loose, dry, treacherous conditions, yes, but in truth, she simply went too-too-too tight into a corner she’s ridden a hundred times, going back to her 20″ wheeled rig. She clipped a pedal and went down hard, smoking her arm on the worst kind of tall, round root just forward of her elbow pad.
{Thankfully, she was still holding onto her bars, so no fingers or wrist joints were in play.}
I’ve seen a thousand bicycle crashes, but only a handful of these ones where you know right away. There’s no cajoling; laughter isn’t going to make it better. I was off my bike in a flash, extracting her from the tangle with hers. The fact that she’d smashed her thigh on the top tube and one hundred percent of her focus was on her arm being a bad sign.
I carried Claire off the trail, then sorted our bikes, and then we just sat for a long time. Took a bit of pain relief, a few slugs of water, and a handful of chewy candies. Fingers work, wrist works, arm works; it hurts.
{Above photo: JacAttack}
‘Real’, how?
It’s the first time Claire has ever crashed, and we couldn’t finish our ride. At least some shortened version of it. She’s tough, there’s no question. We walked out of the forest. She pushed her bike most of the way herself. And at our first chance to exit, we rolled down the gravel access road at exactly the speed that relying on a rear brake for most of the stopping feels right. And then we went home for some ice.
And it’s going to hurt tomorrow. Maybe some bruising, to go along with that constant low-level ouch that we all know well, just so she has something to show for her efforts. And she’s going to roll her eyes and tell me to stop telling her, and everyone else, how tough she is over and over again.
And I’ll remind her (“I know, Papa, geesh, stop talking about it“) that it’s not a measure of tears cried, hugs accepted, emotions in the moment, or even passing out for a while when your Achilles ruptures {ha}, it’s how you deal with the aftermath. She was calm, determined, gritty, self-reliant, patient, and focused on her plan.
And she only whinged to her mama a little bit for special attention when we arrived home.
Welcome to MEATengines, I hope you enjoyed this piece. If you did, please consider buying me a coffee. Any questions, concerns, or comments; feel encouraged to drop me an e-mail, or join us at r/MEATengines.