Getting My Feet Wet

Team FTN was definitely not at full strength last weekend when we attempted to scale the heights at Camp Robinson once again. With the absense of Nathan "Riding at Camp Robinson is for Wussies" Siria, our team was not even close to being at 10% strength. A man down and a six pack shy of a good party, we still vowed to attack the hills with everything we had. Led by our fearless (ok, at least we feared him) leader Jason, we rode full out into the wilderness out at "camp."

The trails we rode on that day were definitely quite a bit different than the ones we tackled just a couple weeks earlier. The terrain was much more mountainous and rocky. The trail was less defined and more technical in parts. In fact, more than one member of our team had the pleasure of becoming very well acquainted with a couple of very friendly trees. Not on such intimate terms as a husband and wife, but they definitely got a good "why-I'm-pleased-to-meetcha" embrace.

Jason first led us out onto the trail called the "5-mile loop," emphasis on the word "loop." In our case, it was more like the Are-We-There-Yet-Neverending-Always-Climbing-Loop. In fact, I secretly think Jason took us around the circuit more than once unbeknownst to us - hence the word "loop." There definitely were a few sections that seemed oddly deja-vu like. Then again, I had ridden the 5-mile loop a couple of years ago during my first and only ride out at Camp Robinson. I'm sure that's probably why it seemed familiar to me, although I still have my doubts about Jason.

Jason was diligent in pointing out when the "5-mile loop" intersected with other trails. There was Freeway which he said would take us back to the beginning. He said if we got lost, to look for Freeway and follow it back to the start. However, as turned around as I was in the woods, how was I to know which way went back and which way led me deeper into the wilderness?

We rode the 5-mile loop (I swear, more than once), the Two Bridges Trail, the Christmas Tree trail and finished up on the Berm Trail. As I had done with the 5-mile loop, I had also ridden the Berm Trail in my only previous outing. It's essentially a singletrack trail on top of this small ridge with steep ten-foot drop offs to either side. At one point, there is a swath cut out of the berm which allows cyclists to crest and go over The Berm. One of the challenges at camp is to be able to ride to the top of The Berm up this swath - not an easy task in itself. The stalwart riders (Jason, Rex, Jim and myself) decided to give it a try and where I failed several times previously, I managed to get to the top in one attempt.

However, the Cycling Gods seemed to sense my pride and overconfidence as I was severely punished later on (see below). Next time I am successful in conquering The Berm, I will try to be more humble and count my blessings.

After nine miles of Mountain Biking Goodness, we all decided that we were fortunate enough to escape serious injury and decided to call it quits before the Cycling Gods decided to unleash their wrath upon us. However, us daredevils had one last challenge should we chose to take up the gauntlet. In my case, the gauntlet rose up and slapped me silly...TWICE.

At the beginning of the trail system, there is a small water body (which is bigger than a puddle, smaller than a pond) where someone has thrown some two-by-fours across the length of it. In order to ride from one side to the other, the foolish cyclist has to ride carefully (or daringly?) a good 25 feet along narrow pieces of wood. Jason had boasted earlier that morning that he would attempt the crossing at the end of the ride.

And of course, he did. And he made it look easy. One try, pedaled all the way across, no problems. Remember how I talked about my pride & overconfidence earlier? Well, seeing the ease it took Jason to ride across, that pride and overconfidence was now growing exponentially. Jim took up the challenge next, and managed to make it across in three attempts. His first two attempts were comedic and the Bicycling Gods were definitely plotting their Revenge on me as I laughed along with everyone else.

Having seen two people rise up to the challenge and being ultimately successful, I was not one to back down so I rode to one side of the water body and prepared my approach. How fast should I ride? Do I need to keep pedaling as I'm riding across? These decisions filled my overconfident brain and my resolve began to waver. That was the chance the Cycling Gods were waiting for. Instead of knocking on the door and awaiting to be invited in, they rammed the door down and stuffed it down my throat.

Having barely ridden onto the boards, I started to lose my balance and into the water I went. I hear a chorus of laughter and yells from my audience. Any grace and self-esteem I had left quickly melted into a puddle like the layer of ice I observed on the mini-lake that was there earlier that morning. Determined not to let the Cycling Gods get the best of me, I made a second attempt.

At least this time I made it halfway across before I took a dive. And wouldn't you know it, I lost my balance at the most inopportune spot - at the deepest section of the pond. *SPLASH!* I came to a dead stop as my bike plunged into the water and it was everything I could do to keep myself from falling completely into the water. I slogged out of the muddy, freezing water amidst more laughter and yells. The Gods had done me in. I was finished, kaput. Having felt fortunate that I only got my feet wet (as opposed to immersing myself completely in the water), I decided to call it quits at that point. I shuddered not only from the cold that was seeping up through my legs at this point, but at the thought that my little failed escapade was caught on video. Then again, having sole possession of the video, I could erase it and claim that it never happened.

I suppose everybody has to get their feet wet sometime. That's the only way we can learn new skills and test the limits of our abilities. In my case, I'm glad I *only* got my feet wet rather than being wet behind the ears.