Back to Basics

The trip to Alaska reinforced my conviction that I must broaden my riding skill set; freaking out when I see gravel and dirt is a waste of energy.

After not riding the dirt bike for five weeks, I'm back to zero again. I'm reminded of what the first year of Aikido training is like, your body and ego are bruised and sore all the time. You see people moving gracefully, efficiently, acrobatically and you wonder, "how long will I be a dork?" Senior students smile and tell you, "just keep coming to practice, you're doing fine." but you don't believe them. You want the frustration to end, you want to start feeling confident and have some fun, and that seems so far away.

Concerned that after five weeks, the bike would have trouble starting, I tried to start it Saturday night in anticipation of riding Sunday morning. I pulled out the choke and kicked the starter down a few times and got no response. So I tried, and tried, and succeeded in working up quite a sweat but didn't get the bike's engine started. I had a feeling I was forgetting something, so I called Charles. "Did you open up the gas line?" Hearing this question made me crumple. I turned the petcock from "off" to "gas", and the bike started easily. Argh.

Knowing that today would be awful, I met Charles at Metcalf and threw myself into laps in the novice oval, and eventually down trail 2 to one of the small tracks. It was worse than starting all over again. A new problem manifested - target fixation. Target fixation is "going where you are looking and loss of awareness of the big picture". You may have seen news stories about the driver of a car looking at an accident on the highway and inadvertently adding their vehicle to the accident scene. I have never had target fixation problems before, but today, every big rock in the middle of the track seemed to magnetically pull my bike towards it.

I have been warned that Charles can be very persuasive, and while he might not lie, he may not tell you the entire truth. "Come with me on trail 3." he said. I demurred telling him how terrible my riding was today, and promised "next time". Charles wasn't taking no for an answer. "Riding around on this small track slowly is just going to teach you to ride slowly and badly. And, wouldn't you like to get away from riding with these other people around you?" That was the sucker punch. "Will there be a lot of downhill?" I asked, sounding like a 6-year old. "A little. You can handle it." The voice in my head yelled, "he's a liar, liar, pants on fire". Charles addressed my hesitation immediately, "I'll wait for you, I won't go fast. Trail 3 isn't hard." In the end, I followed him to Trail 3.

Down hill, two steep S-curves. I knew he wasn't telling me the whole truth. The first one was steep enough that I considered cutting across the field which would be illegal, and, worse, would destroy the plants. My brain could not resolve the conflict "too steep, too steep! versus "riding off-trail is not allowed"; I fell off my bike. Charles put his bike down, climbed up the hill, road my bike down to his bike, I walked. We rode to the next S-curve. This one I managed a little bit better, at least, I didn't fall off. It helps when you can see that after the downhill part, there's enough run out to disperse the accumulated speed which is what a novice like me wants to do.

The last challenge was an uphill run. "Keep your head up, don't look at the rocks, look beyond them." said Charles. I lead the charge. I immediately fixated on a big rock in the middle of the path, ran over it with both my front and my rear tires, lost my footing on the pegs and started to flail. I accidentaly gassed the bike which restored forward motion and straightened it out. I can't take credit for that recovery, it was a spastic response. We got back to the parking lot without me falling down again. I had only been out about ninety minutes, but I was fried.

If you are familiar with the Metcalf Regional Off-road park, then you may be thinking, "Trail 3? Steep hills? What steep hills?" Maybe in a year I too will be able to laugh at Trail 3. Part of me is glad I allowed Charles to talk me into Trail 3, part of me dreads going back.

But I'll keep going back, either to Metcalf or Hollister. I want to fly over the trails like I see other people doing. I want that grace, that efficiency of movement, I want that confidence.