It was definitely time for Jason and I to go for the first ride of the season. I suggested we bike at Maybury since it's quite close to our house and it would be new to me. Last year, we went to Island Lake Recreation Area, but it's a much farther drive.
We didn't even leave the house until after 7:30 p.m. but we figured we were okay since it's starting to stay light out for longer in the day.
I was feeling a bit apprehensive about the ride because Jason and his friends had ridden it in the past and they gave me the uneasy impression that it was not for beginners.
What the hell? I figured.
I had to get over my nerves sooner or later. Plus, with the proximity of the park to my house, it'd be nice if one day I could feel comfortable to venture out there by myself.
We pulled into the parking lot and there were plenty of other bikers milling about. I couldn't tell if they just finished a grueling ride or if they were saddling up and would come sprinting up from behind me. That's one of my fears. I'm quite new to trail riding, and to handling my bike in general, and I'm not a real swashbuckler out there. I could easily see myself pushing my bike up a steep incline while some rowdy experts plow into me because they didn't expect to see such a sloth in their path. But again, gotta get over those nerves sooner or later. Right?
It was a quick warm-up as we cruised on the paved path to get to the trail head. I was feeling chilly out there with the dimming sun, so I hoped a good ride would keep me warm.
Whoosh! Jason didn't waste anytime diving into the underbelly of the forest. It was all I could do to try and keep up with him and eventually I didn't even try. I figured he was up there somewhere and I'd be more inclined to hurt myself if I got ahead of my own speed. It was brutal. Hardly a mile in and already my chest was burning from breathing so hard and my quads were tighter than guitar strings.
The twists and turns were incredibly tight and I realized I had to start mastering some swifter turning capabilities. Nearly every time I veered too wide and barely made it past some giant stump or jagged, tooth-bearing rock. I was desperately hoping, I wouldn't fly off my bike and bust an ankle, or worse.
The downhills were the worst. I just do not have that fearless ability to blaze downward like a ball of lightning while flying over stones, roots and logs. I'm hoping it's something I can get comfortable with over time. I have to. Otherwise, I'll be wimpy, pansy-pants creeping down at a crawling pace just asking for a collision from speedsters shooting down on me at breakneck speeds. Admittedly, there were times when I dismounted, gritted my teeth, and just rolled my bike for a few downhill stretches.
Then there were more spacious sections of the trail where it seemed to buoyantly crest along on the tops of pine needle layers and smooth dirt. It was relaxing to itch my shoulder and not think that letting go of my handlebars would mean letting go of all control. Occasionally, smells of spring foliage and fragrant flowers would waft by and remind me that it was okay to relax. I enjoyed those stretches immensely. If the whole route were like that, I think I'd be dreaming of going back again after work today.
But then my reverie would be interrupted by a stair-like column of roots of varying sizes that I needed to climb over or a gaping, gushy trench of primeval black mud that I could barely cruise around without being swallowed by some crazy, branch-entangled, monster bush. It required a lot of concentration. Then it started getting darker, and darker, and pretty soon I could hardly make out the white stripes on Jason's shorts ahead of me. At one point, I saw some shadowy, slow-lurking animal cross the path in front of me. I yelled for Jason and felt no comfort in him exclaiming that he could see it as well.
Near the end (or what I was hoping would soon be the end), my patience was dwindling in relation to my fearlessness. Not a good combination for safety. I just wanted to get out of there. I felt like I was starting to become swallowed into the vast, prickly, mysterious mouth of the park. All the fortitude I brought with me was dwindling. Now, I was just anxious and at the end of my ability to solider on. Jason was spouting some mantra that I should try and become one with the trail but there was no way that was happening. I just kept pushing on, not out of perseverance and will, but rather to just.get.to.the.end.
Finally, we made it off the trail. And we knew it was late because the moon was shining stronger than the sun and a park ranger drove up in his truck and told us Maybury was closed. As we rolled our way into the parking lot, we noticed we had the only truck left in the lot.
Oh well. Just goes to show how tough we are. We outlasted everyone :)
