The truth behind my ride

When riding my bike off-road she is definitely the most capable of the both of us. Without looking back, she ploughs through the mud, takes on the puddles and ends up in a ditch to be picked up again. Indicators broken, but she doesn’t care. I can honestly tell you that I would be in much more pain when breaking parts of myself! The thing we have in common is the urge for adventure and the tendency to keep on pushing forward until we suddenly break down. Never anything serious. Luckily that also goes for the both of us.

It is said that woman dream of a prince on a white horse to come and take them away. All I can say is, get yourself a bike and stop dreaming! The perfect solution to become your own prince. It may not be a white horse, but trust me, everything becomes more beautiful with a little dirt. Love is scary, life can be tough and freedom may be terrifying, but if you don’t try you certainly fail. This is exactly what I feel when I ride my bike. At times the ride gets tough and I am terrified, but the urge to continue is stronger than my fear. I have fallen down many times and every time I pick myself up again and continue. Last time was a little different though.

I wasn’t feeling well, but often I feel better after riding for a while so we decided to hit those trails anyway. Off we went and the tracks only got more and more muddy while we moved along. Somehow my body relaxed and even though my tires instantly filled up with mud and I slithered around, everything went well. It was the first time I rode through deep mud and I can genuinely tell you that I enjoyed myself. After a short while I got tired and we decided to head back home. Just a few more tracks to reach the road. Perfect, no problem. I’ve done quite a few by now, I can do that. Apparently not. Instead of riding nicely in the middle through the ditch I slipped and ended up high and dry on the right-hand side. To get back to the preferred route I toppled over. Straight down into the mud and with my leg stuck below 260kg’s of bike. Those moments you’re damn glad to have a riding buddy! He helped me get from below my bike and we picked her up together. I was fine. To be more accurate, I didn’t yet feel that I had bruised my leg pretty badly. Exhausted we reached back home to find out that I had a fever. From my muddy riding gear I switched into my pyjamas and went straight to bed. For more than a week I moved between the sofa and the bed with a fever and a swollen blue upper leg. Now, more than a month later, my leg still hurts. Luckily, pain doesn’t kill dreams! To celebrate Christmas day we hit those tracks again. I wasn’t yet brave enough to jump in the deep end. No deep mud, just gravel, puddles and a few slithery patches. Riding my bike always confronts me with my limitations, but at the same time it shows me that all I need is some courage to face them. Courage definitely doesn’t mean I don’t get scared, it just means I don’t let my fear stop me.