Mountain Biking

 you haven’t biked in more than four years, then don’t go  biking! I guess I should have thought it through more, but I didn’t. I was eleven and we were  in Whistler during the summer. When my dad asked, “Do you kids want to go mountain biking?” naturally I said yes. I forgot very critical piece of information; I had not ridden a bike since I was seven.

 I didn’t realize how ridiculous the situation was until we were on the gondola with our gear on and almost to the top of the mountain. I looked down at the armor- yes seriously, armor. I felt as though I was going to war. Then came the worst part. It hit me like a punch in the stomach: “Oh my god, this is dangerous and I don’t even remember how to ride a bike.”Most people, smart people, would have mentioned that fact to their dad and brother before they headed down the treacherous mountain, but somehow I didn’t say a word.

We grabbed our heavy bikes and I followed them out of the gondola station to my inevitable doom. The mountain was really, really steep. There were rocks, cliffs, trees, and ditches. The worst part was that it was my only way down.

“Wow, this is great!” my dad said enthusiastically. I looked down. I could feel my stomach collapse into itself. I really wanted to scream and run the other way, but I guess I’m too stubborn for that. “No turning back now,” I said to myself. “If I fall, maybe I’ll just roll down the mountain.” For some odd reason, at that moment, the idea appealed to me quite a lot. I was too caught up in thought to realize my brother and dad had already biked past me and started down the mountain. I could feel my heart beating, and I swear I could hear it too. Cautiously, I attempted to get on my bike. It was like trying to get on a big metal horse. As soon as I brought one leg over, I scraped the other one on one of the spokes of the wheel. So, with a scraped up leg, I started pedaling. Slowly, I made my way to the start of the trail. I thought to myself, “I can do this, it’ll be fun… well maybe not, but I won’t die… I hope.”

I brought my front wheel over the steep drop-off and held my breath. I began skittering out of control over the rocks and bumps as I descended. I tried to keep calm, but it was not that easy. I tried the brakes, remembering the warning, “slow on the brakes or you’ll flip over.” I’m not sure how I managed to finally stop before going over a cliff on the side of the trail, but I’m so glad that I did. My dad got off his bike and ran over to me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Flustered, I replied, “Dad, I don’t really remember how to bike. Could I crawl down the mountain or something?”

 I looked around for any possible other way down, but I was out of luck. Just as my dad was about to answer my question, a group of bikers zoomed passed us. What I noticed made me want to dig a hole, climb into it, and hide. Those bikers, who were really good at biking, had blood on their armor. “Oh great, I’m toast,” I moaned.

“We have to keep moving,” my dad said solemnly. “It’s the only way down, and you’ll get hit if you don’t.” Suddenly, I felt guilty. If I got hurt, my dad would feel awful, so I decided to keep going. I started again, as slowly as I could, carefully pinching the brakes every two seconds. I was starting to get the hang of it, gaining a tiny bit of confidence and then having it crushed every time I hit a rock or root.

It must have taken a long time, but eventually I realized that we were getting closer to the bottom of the mountain. I was ecstatic; we were almost done and I had all my limbs intact! I was starting to get really excited until I saw the narrow gaps between the trees ahead with a fierce river roaring on the sideline.  “So this is how the story ends?” I asked myself. The river sounded like thunder below the uninviting cliff. I stopped my bike.  I thought to myself, I will probably sink with all this armor right? I don’t have a cell phone with me either, but it would get drenched anyways.“ My thoughts were racing, but I knew that I would have to go down because I could hear a group of bikers not too far behind me.

As proven already, my common sense is not great, but what I did next was just plain stupid. I started pedaling and closed my eyes. Yes, I closed my eyes. I don’t even know what I was thinking, but as soon as I opened them I was an inch from the cliff and had barely missed a tree. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed louder than I screamed at that second. I stopped pedaling and just screamed. By some miracle my bike didn’t hit the tree or go off the edge. Still not pedaling, I just kept going straight. “DAD!!!!!!” I screamed. Within a minute I was out of the trees and I could feel a wave of relief wash over me.The rest of the way down was slow but less steep. Finally, when I could see the bottom station, I was so happy I felt like I could fly. Of course, I got caught up in the moment and right before I made it to the base, I fell. I fell flat on my back and got the wind knocked out of me, but right then I didn’t care at all. I just lay on the ground, laughing, until a biker went right past my head and then I remembered where I was. I got back up, climbed on my bike, and went the final distance to the base. I took off my helmet and started singing “We Are the Champions” at the top of my lungs. It was definitely an experience I’ll never forget, but I don’t think I’ll be mountain biking again any time soon.v