Nice to Meet You, Barbed Wire

I don’t know if this is legitimate or not, but I swear that God has gifted some people with a sixth sense of knowing. You know what I’m talking about? Some people just know things, it’s a really strong intuition type of thing. Maybe, maybe I’d venture to say that I have that [and by ‘maybe’ I mean I do.]  But sometimes, when you’re on vacation, you feel empowered to do things that you wouldn’t normally do in real life. Never in my real life do I pretend to be an athlete, but the hot weather here, walking around in athletic shorts, the blisters on my feet, and maybe all the running we did in the Bangkok airport indicated to my brain that I in fact, am an athlete in Thailand.

Some teammates and I thought it would be a really fun experience to go mountain biking so of the dozens and dozens of brochures, we picked one. I don’t know why the “25 km” didn’t send off flashing red lights in my mind, or the “elevation drop of 5,000 feet.” The trail was marked “beginner”. Clearly, athletes don’t worry about things like this, and obviously, I’m an athlete in Thailand.

Let’s just say that the pamphlet was a little…misleading. I have never worn more equipment in my life, even for a dance recital. Elbow pads, helmet, knee pads, racing gloves, backpacks…some people need them more than others. I fell into the “more than others” category.

Yes, for those of you who were wondering, my helmet has stars.

We drove up the mountain in a tuk-tuk, the Thai version of a taxi. It was a long and twisty-turny ride that left a good percentage of us carsick. At the top we acquired our bikes and prepped ourselves for the adventure to come, practicing in little circles at the top of the mountain.

I vividly remember the day that I learned to ride a bike [thanks mom and dad for all your physical and emotional support in that]. I can ride a bike as a great mode of transportation. Obviously, being able to ride a bike on the sidewalk makes you an automatic athlete. There’s hardly any difference between riding your bike on the street and riding your bike on a mountain. 

{Biggest lie ever}.

We have no idea what we're in for...but we look good!

I don’t know if you’ve ever been mountain biking before, but it’s not even close to a walk in the park. Point number one: you’re on a mountain. In case you don’t know, mountains are these really high things that stick up to the sky and they are anything but smooth. Point number two: 5,000 feet is really tall. That’s like 714.3 Yao Ming’s, people. Point number three: Things with two wheels move. When they set themselves to move down a hill [or you know, a mountain] they have a tendency to move fast. When your body is on top of them, you also acquire and add to the momentum of the thing with wheels and you also then move fast.

I met three new friends today. Their names are gravel, barbed wire, and prickly-hay bush. So being that I’m an athlete and all, it’s only necessary that I experience a right of passage into the realm of athleticism. That involves the process of wiping out. I just loved my first time so much, I just had to do it again…and again. [Mom, I promise I’m ok]. I’m especially thankful for the barbed wire, as it stopped me from tumbling over a cliff. It was so excited to meet me that a kind Thai woman had to come over and untangle me out of it. It left a couple nice souvenirs on my arm. They’ll go away in a few weeks. I took a tumble down a three foot ledge to meet the prickley-hay bush. Michael got a spectacular view of that first-and only-greeting, as he was a few feet behind me.

[I just wanted to note that as I’m sitting here proofing this epic story, I find myself laughing at my own writing to the point of tears. My guess is that those of you who know me really well may also be laughing just as much as I am (Kate & Alicia I can hear you in my head). Breathe. Now it’s time to get serious…]

I’d be lying to you if I said that it was easy. And I might even admit that my eyes glazed over with a watery liquid at 2 or 3 different points throughout the journey. For as exciting and awesome as it was, I was a definite passenger on the struggle bus…er, the struggle bike. I had my own personal guide [in the back of the line]. I had to get over (real quick) my hatred of needing special treatment, my hatred of people sacrificing their time and lessening their abilities for the sake of me, and my hatred of self-detrimental thinking. I had a champion teammate who after tumble number two, refused to leave my side—or at least keep me within his views at basically all times. Throughout a good portion of the experience, my brain was on replay of what I overheard 1 ½ years ago in regards to me [at ironically another athletic event].

“She’s too weak, she can’t do this, what was she thinking?”

 Maybe not the greatest moment of my life, so I won’t put it on the blog for all to hear my sob story. Nonetheless, that was playing through my head and obviously got me nowhere. Moral of the story, kids, is don’t let your past ruin your life. You can do it.

I just biked a momma-banshee mountain in Thailand, homies. I don’t ever want to hear the words “I can’t…” come from your mouth, or your kids mouths, or my kid's mouths. But that's for an era that I haven't reached yet. Perseverence, [a little] sweat, and [a lotta] prayer will get you there.

..and that’s all I have to say about that.

The only true causality of the day: my sunglasses