About the closest I get to biking these days is walking my bike along side my 4 year old who is still on training wheels, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when DH suggested mountain biking  through the woods. We decided having not done this for years that we would stick to what looked on the map to be the main trail. If that was the main trail, I shudder to think about what the off road looked like.

The path was a decpetively smooth bed of pine needles climbing slowly through a sunlit forest next to a shimmering lake. Then we turned a corner and suddenly we were careening down hill over thick roots and giant sharp rocks that kept leaping in front of me. They wanted blood. Looking at them, I could feel the scrapes on my legs and shoulders. Suddenly, I understood my daughter’s fear when faced with going down what looks to me like a small hill on her bike. To her, it’s a mountain.

For awhile, I forgot about any other problem I have. I could think about nothing but staying on the bike and out of the dirt. It was terrifying and exciting all at the same time. What a crazy sport.

I can’t wait to go back.