Tuesday after work James and I went mountain biking at Burnaby Mountain. We started out on Lower Snake, which is labelled “intermediate” and I was doing okay till I got to a big fat drop. And by “big fat” I mean… ohh… 8 inches? Maybe 10? And it was just after a curve and there was a tree on the side. Nothing huge but I kept freaking out and stopping right before it… I tried like 10 times with my bike, which is way too big for mtn biking. The top tube is long enough that I can’t move my ass back behind the saddle and still hold on to the handlebars. I get paranoid about flipping over head first.
So I tried a few more times with James’ bike which is smaller and more appropriate but by that time I was still freaked out and panicky and couldn’t do it. So what did I do? The only logical thing of course; drop the bike and start BAWLING. James came and gave me a hug for a second and then said, “Can we go? The mosquitos are eating me alive.”
So we went on for a bit, me still sobbing and stopping at every minor obstacle to sob a bit more, until James was like, “Elaine… you can just walk if you want… ELAINE WE CAN STOP IF YOU LIKE, IT’S OKAY… ELAINE!!!” And then I was fine. For the rest of the evening I started flowing really well and sailing over drops and around corners and between trees steeper and tighter and narrower than the ones that tripped me up so badly at first. How does that work? Just had to get my cries out, I guess.
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