A Last Chance

It was the coldest morning I’d felt so far that year. At least the coldest morning my feet had yet to feel against the frozen creeking boards of my living room floor. A soft grayness waltzed past the window leaving its perimeter clouded and sparkling with frost. I felt a chill as deep inside me as my bones and as cold as the winter winds. The warm air blowing from my register said it was probably a good idea to stay at home, and the hot coffee in my hands agreed. As if the obvious warmth and comfort of my home weren’t reason enough to declare that day another relaxing one, I had doctors’ orders to make it so. Only two weeks had passed since I’d been cut up and had a hernia removed and riding a bike wasn’t exactly part of my recovery program. But I was watching winter creep its way further down the mountain day by day, and I was feeling a ”last chance” itch. Plus I have never been good at doing what I’m told.




Nearing the trailhead my body was developing a steady shiver. Good at convincing myself of my own ideas, I figured I would warm up once I started riding. But then when I lifted my bike from my truck I felt a bit of a sting in my stomach. And stepping over the top tube was harder than ever. Snap. The first shoe was in. But before I could push off and put my other foot to pedal I realized what a dumb Idea that might be. Sure, I could sit and pedal without discomfort. But what if I slip on a patch of ice and fall? Stranger things have happened. And then I would be straight back to the hospital and stuck in bed for another two weeks. That’s the last place I wanted to be. Besides, I had already declared my last ride of the year a few weeks prior with a victory lap on the Rio trail. And this ride wouldn’t turn out to be anything spectacular, would it? If I were to continue I wouldn’t even leave the fire road, I wouldn’t even touch a tire to trail. I unclipped the pedal and took a few steps back toward my truck. I paused for a moment, looking at the ground, at my bike, and then back at the ground. Defeat. I grabbed onto my bike and began to hoist it over the tailgate. Just as my back tire hit the bed liner a patch of the sky parted over a nearby rock face and a pocket of light burst through. It was glowing there atop the road I wished to pedal, shining triumphantly in what very well may be the last patch of sun I see for months. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t know very much. But I knew then, it was a terrible idea to go home. I lifted my bike back off the truck and hopped over the top tube. Snap, snap. With both of my shoes clicked into my pedals, I was gone.






That ride set me free. I had disobeyed my doctor and my own conscious but it was something I needed to do. The Doctor told me time would heal the wound and time I should allow it. But on that chilly morning, it felt as if time itself were the wound. It was itchy and I had to pick the scab. Do you ever feel that unexplainable urge that you can’t say no to? Even when I know its a bad idea, I still can’t say no to it. Even though I already had my “last ride of the year,” I needed that one. My last ride was a fully pinned lap down a high speed trail with one of my fastest friends plowing the trail behind me. Those kind of rides are my favourite because I feel like I am on the edge of destruction. But when your slashing and pumping and squeezing in pedals strokes between roots your eyes are focused on the trail ahead. Your eyes don’t have the freedom to wonder and to appreciate things like a the sun flickering off a water beaded leaf or a small breeze dancing through a field, drawing pictures with a trail of flickering blades of grass. Sometimes when I am riding on the edge of control I feel like I am locked in a cage, unable to appreciate the finer details of the places I play. Those chill rides like I had that day are the key that opens the cage and sets my eyes and imagination free to be. And to see whatever they wish to see.