About that engaged couple

In my mtn. biking meme I wrote about a woman whose brakes went out on her bike and yet she finished the ride. On the bike. Two of my readers commented on the fact that her fiance wasn't more chivalrous.

Well. Why should the male half of the couple be required to ride the broken bike? You are assuming that he's a better rider. You are assuming that he can handle the pain & ignominy of the falls better. Wrong. She's the stronger rider.

Her husband was honoring her abilities. He didn't assume that she was beaten; he didn't assume that she was a poor helpless chick stranded on a trail. Instead, he gave her the impetus she needed to finish the ride under her own power, despite the odds.

If he'd sacrificially taken the broken bike, then he would have been the hero. Instead she was the hero.

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My four-year-old son sometimes rides through the vacant hillside lot across the street. The big kids have built jumps on dirt trails over there. He pushes his bike up but he rides down. Sometimes he gets scared, seeing as there's rocks and juniper trees, and rather than feather his footbrakes he tries to drag his feet to slow down. This is extremely precarious. Stay on your bike, we always say. You're safer on your bike.

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Do you remember that I said I'd cried, once, on a trail?

Three Corner Rock. Deepest darkest southern Washington, a trail covering a ridge or three through second-growth forest. We left one car at the bottom of the trail and parked the other near the summit, cutting the ride in half -- but it was still several miles over rough terrain.

I had broken my arm that winter. The doctor said that I couldn't hurt it, but it still hurt. I didn't have full range of mobility in my wrist yet. So: I was really afraid to fall. In mtn. biking, as in most sports, hesitation is not rewarded; fear of falling induces falling.

So I fell. On a set of about a dozen switchbacks leading through the forest on the side of a mountain, I fell. Over and over. My husband and brother-in-law were so far ahead I couldn't see them. I was so tired, I felt so abandoned, my wrist hurt and shit, I was still a couple miles from the car. I just plopped myself on the trail and cried. Poor me! Oh, poor me!

And then I got up. I was still a few miles from the car. How would I get there except under my own power? I ate a powerbar and I rode the rest of the way.

I'm proud of that ride. I get to be proud. Just like my sister is proud of finishing her run despite being lost in the rain. Just like Casey is proud of her birth experience. Just like you are proud of the hard thing you did most recently.