Read time 1 min 15 sec
There I am, perched atop a gnarly section of a red trail. One I've only ridden once before. You'd think a second run would mean confidence, but here I am, staring down a section that's got my palms all sweaty.
I mean, seriously... Steep? Check. Rocks that seem like some sadistic trail fairy has sprinkled them? Check. And dust? Of course! It hasn't rained in a month. Now, I'm known to overthink, and often, I'd have been better off charging in instead of doing this weird, dramatic pause at the top. But man, I need to figure out where to go in this section.
I squint and spot what might be a good line to the right. Without further ado, I'm off! But, as usual, my bravery takes a backseat. Leaning too far back, grabbing the brakes like they owe me money, my front wheel decides it's had enough, sending me into a not-so-graceful "foot dab but still riding it out, just not looking cool" way down. Classic.
Here I am, dusting off at the bottom, thinking about the difference between "Hey, I rode that!" and "Man, I really *flowed* through that." True flow? It's that zen-like state where it feels like I'm dancing with the dirt. But on trails like this, it feels more like I'm two left feet at a ballroom dance. Repetition and patience, right?
A few tricks do help. Focusing on my breath, always looking ahead, and pretending I know something about body positioning.
I may not ride with the grace of a ballet dancer on two wheels, but who needs style when you're having the time of your life? And honestly, the only person judging me... is me.
Catch you next week? There are more trails to tackle and tales to tell. Today's adventure? "La Dorlay". Till next time!
Claude
