Getting a little air time on the bicycle

Wanting to do something a little different today, I loaded Kandy (My bike. It’s orange and black – hence Halloween, hence candy corn, ergo, Kandy. Yes, I’ve named my bike too – life just keeps getting sadder and sadder when you live on your own.) Anyway, I loaded Kandy onto the car and headed northwest of San Antonio to a place that has some very nice single-track bike paths. Flat Rock Ranch, in fact, boasts two trails – a shorter harder trail and a longer easier trail - at least that is what I was told. Naturally I chose the easier.

Let it be said now that ‘easier’ is one of those words that can mean lots of different things to different people. As I am a cycling neophyte of the highest order, easier to me means the trails I’ve been riding – fairly smooth dirt with the odd incline of no great moment. There was no ‘easier’ option at Flat Rock for me. Nor will there ever be.

The paths, you see, are very narrow and rocks abound. And today, for the first time, I realized exactly how much effort you need to spend taking in your surroundings while cycling … that is, if by surroundings you mean the three-10 feet directly in front of your handlebars – about the point on the ground your face would hit if you were to go flying over them. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’ve watched enough X-Games and TV shows that show youngsters with no regard for medical bills hurtling themselves through, over, and around various obstacles, rocks, trees and stuff to know, that they are just plain foolish. So imagine my surprise, while riding along I note that at some points on the trail, a balance wobble could send me bouncing down many, many, many feet of rock because the trail is about two feet wide with a ledge. (Not a deep ledge mind, but ledge enough that you need to pay attention to what’s going on in front of you.)

Now, you may laugh that I have named my bike as well as my apartments, but at Flat Rock Ranch, they name their hills – not the up hills, but the down hills. I noticed this as I huffed my way to the top of a hill and entered a switchback and caught a fleeting glimpse of a sign that said, “Rigie’s Canyon”.

It took me about 2 seconds to process the word ‘canyon’ and its potential implications to my truncated world-view at the time. Two seconds, it turns out, was too long as I found myself hurtling down a hill that I had no business hurtling down. Had I been given extra warning about the rock-strewn and tree-root infested half-pipe I was now careening down, I would have done the sensible thing and walked my bike down the hill.

Alas, I had no such warning and was pretty much along for the ride busying myself trying to keep Kandy as upright as possible.

I think this is a good point to discuss profanity. If you know me, you know I’m no stranger to a good bit of cussing. But never, and I think this bears repeating, never, have I just swore out loud with no person within acres of me just out of blind panic. Words I have not heard myself utter in decades came back to me like falling space debris – really fast and in bits and pieces – as I bounced along.

For all it’s grey-hair inducing qualities, however, I made two decisions when I reached the bottom of the hill alive and relatively intact. First, I thought, that was actually quite fun. Second, I thought, I’m never coming back to this place again.

I had originally intended to be on the trails for an hour, maybe 90 minutes. After two hours, I’d run out of water and a day that had started pleasantly in the low 70s was now into the 90s. I was still finding trail markers though, so I figured it wouldn’t be long.

Well into the third hour I got to see the “Evil Worm” which I noticed in plenty of time to walk down and I got to do something I hadn’t even considered when starting my ride. I got to fly.

That’s right, fly. Not far though. Early on in the ride I had a couple run-ins with large obstacles that stopped my bicycle’s forward motion but launched my prodigious girth right into my handlebars. My final act, however, involved no ground based obstacles at all. The path wound through the woods and right between two trees. (I’ve included the picture for you here).

It is realistic to think that if enough people have gone between these trees to have made a path, I should be able to do this. The ground was flat and thoughtfully devoid of large rocks and I had not yet entered a state of dehydration.

Well. You kind of know what’s coming don’t you? Kandy just kind of got stuck between the trees and at a fairly odd angle too it must be said. I had no such issues as I launched myself onto the path – and landed with my face just about the point I was looking at as I was riding.

I lay there on the ground for a moment, very happy for gloves and my helmet, going through body functions like a pre-flight checklist.

Arms? Good.

Legs? Good.

Back? Miraculously, good.

Ego? Oh, hell, we haven’t seen that for hours at this point.

Lying on the ground I started to laugh because ultimately, the only reason I’m on a bicycle at all is because my doctor said running would hurt my knees. I thought this hugely funny as I picked bits of gravel out of myself and made my way out of the woods and down “Hospital Hill” to my car.