Back in the Saddle

Back in the Saddle

It has been approximately 5 months since I’ve been on a bike and through this whole journey I’ve anticipated my first day “Back in the Saddle Again.”  This much-awaited first ride had to be planned out in advance so that the many friends and family who so excitedly expressed their desire to join me had the opportunity to do so.  As I came closer to the day of the ride I had to choose where it would be and to what degree of difficultly I was willing to test my new, rearranged body.  Many friends had advised me to just stay on the relatively flat bike path and take it easy until I was sure my body could handle more.  I know they meant well, and to them this made sense, but to my heart it was anything but.  I knew there would be two criteria of importance: The first being that I would be back on the dirt and the other that it would take me to the mountains.

So, I chose a difficult climb and a more difficult downhill called the Luge.  This route did offer those who found the road hard to climb, the option to get off and walk.  It also allowed for a bailout plan:  If, on some of the easier downhill sections, there was too much fatigue to my back muscles I could turn back and descend the trail which I came from instead of attempting the more difficult descent of the Luge.

Yes, it was definitely a bold choice and one that many might question my sensibility, but to those of you who know me well this choice would not be a surprise.  I don’t chose to take the easy road if the difficulty of the harder path provides a greater challenge … and with that, a greater reward.  From my adventurous, larger than life spirit, I look for opportunities to test my abilities.

I remember a time in my teen years when I worked on a youth crew in the Canadian Rockies.  We assisted the Parks Service in many duties such as building nature trails, helping the local naturalists, cleaning camp grounds and so on.  I was fortunate enough to be assigned to Mount Robson Provincial Park, home to the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies.  Close to the end of the summer my group was asked to spend one week up at Berg Lake building latrines and doing surveying of the glaciers that fed the lake from mid-way up this grand beauty known as Mt. Robson.  To get to our camp the climb was long and difficult being the source of complaint by most of the crewmembers that had gone before us.  I don’t remember if my choice to run the entire trail was made before I reached the trailhead or shortly after beginning the trek.  Nonetheless, I ran it faster then anyone had to that point (the record was told to me by one of the foreman who worked for the youth crew for many years).  Unfortunately, I wasn’t a journal keeper in those days and can’t go back to read my experience through the eyes of a 16 year old, but I do remember the great satisfaction when I arrived at the cabins and hadn’t stopped the whole way.  That same self-driven spirit has challenged me my whole life and I am grateful for it.  To push ones self a little further, a little faster, a little higher is what gets us to another level.  I don’t want to stay on flat ground because by doing so I don’t rise to the challenge . . . or, rise to my greater abilities.

So, here I am, a forty-eight year old woman who won’t stop the climb until I’ve made it to the top.  Being joined by more than a dozen of my friends and family this past Saturday I took my first pedal stroke in 5 months.  Up the paved road we all journeyed finding chalked in signs of encouragement written by my son and a few of his friends along the way.  At the base of Majeska Grade (a super steep road that lead us to the dirt trailhead) the yellow chalk informed me that I was about to test these legs, lungs and heart to their wake up call from a vacation that is now over.  The more I climbed the more determined I became in not stopping or dabbing (putting ones foot down on a sketchy section).  I am not going to tell you it was easy but I sure knew I was alive.  I made it to the top of the climb, to the flagpole just before the downhill challenge without dabbing.  Quite amazed at this feat, I knew at this point that there would be no hill that would get in my way anymore.  My body wasn’t as strong as it has been in the past, but it was strong enough to get me up the mountain and down again.  But, did I do it alone like back in those Canadian Rockies so long ago?  The answer is NO!

Back to that paved road known as Majeska Grade . . . the one that you have to put your bike in it’s lowest gear just to get up the first section.  Well, during that first part of the climb I was riding with two of my friends when, out of nowhere (riding between us) along comes an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while.  He road along side me and placed his hand on my back to give me that gentle assist for a few moments, just long enough to make that journey so much easier, and then he headed on.

This brief relief took me back to the days of Adventure Racing, some five or six years in my past.  If I would define Adventure Racing in a few short words I would have to describe it as a very extreme form of racing with multiple disciplines to test a team of two to five individuals to the outer limits of their mental, emotional and physical abilities.  No other sport that I have ever been involved in, from Track and Field, Gymnastics, Swimming, Downhill and Cross County Mountain Bike Racing has tested my mental capacity like this one.  The races can last anywhere from a few hours to ten days, depending on the event.  It was within this sport that I learned the valuable techniques of “Tail-boning” and “Tethering.”  That slight assist to the small of the back by another rider or runner is known as Tail-boning and the use of a four to six foot length of surgical tubing connected to two bikes, kayaks or persons is known as Tethering.  These techniques are both used to even out the levels of racers on a team.  Typically, the disciplines within adventure racing can be; cross-country running, mountain biking, paddling, climbing, swimming, coasteering, orienteering/navigation and so on.  Rarely would there be one racer on a team who is the strongest at all of the events.  Usually, your strong runner may not be the strongest mountain biker or paddler, or vice-a-versa.  Teams who work well together are always using their stronger racer, or racers, to assist the weaker.  At times of fatigue, sleep deprivation or even injury, the assist can be a huge physical as well as mental and emotional charge.

When the support of a teammate, friend or family member is felt it could bring that extra needed will to not just survive but thrive to our psyche.  This entire journey, or Uphill Climb, has been trekked with the support of all of you.  I do not need the gentle assist on my back to know that you are there, but it was nice to be reminded once again just what support can bring to a tired soul.  Thank you all for coming along for the ride whether you were there in person or in spirit . . . I know you are there to encourage me onward.