I've had my share of fear-filled pivotal moments, standing completely still and staring anxiously down some misshapen escarpment. One foot readily pressed against the leading pedal, my other foot planted firmly in the seemingly safer ground beneath me. Eyes transfixed with a piercing gaze in the supposed path I should take. Although my planted foot may leave the ground to meet briefly with the other pedal, and my sights may lift up to the bottom of the line below, my fingers remain clutched against the brake levers. And while the wind whips cold and never gives up on trying to rip the shirt from my back, I just can't seem to find an answer to my rhetorical question, "Should I go?"



I've been putting myself in that pivotal position a lot this year and it's a scary place to be. In one hand I can have my celebratory moment where work and risk pay off. But on the other hand everything could blow up in my face before I even knows it's coming. This year in particular, the other hand often seem more likely. I have had a lot of friends going down hard and coming up short with major injuries. Haunting nightmares of their injuries and my potential absolute destruction have plagued my daydreams and the hesitant moments while hiking back up the roll in. Still even with all the scary moments and all the horrifying thoughts that occasionally cross my mind I have been stepping up to the plate and pushing myself to ride bigger jumps, trick sketchier lines and tweak my bike further and harder than I ever I thought I could.



What's my motivation? I have a continuing curiosity that bugs me so much that I can barely call it a curiosity anymore; it's become an obsession. I am constantly asking myself, can I do this? If I have been shredding for years and I don't keep stepping it up, am I just wasting my time? I'm not totally sure where the questions stem from, but every time I drop in it feels like the opening track of an old punk CD. I'm a little too excited, a little bit aggressive and admittedly, maybe a little misguided. But for the first time in my life, I sort of feel like I have something to prove. Maybe at the end of the track I won't be any further than I was when it started, but at least I'll know I tried. So even when I'm feeling more than sketchy, and the whipping wind tells my planted foot to stay planted, I am letting my fingers off the brakes. I'm dropping in and the best is yet to come.