Sometimes i just need to get my willies out. You probably know the feeling. When i wake up, i don’t usually feel stoked about the day. It takes intentional effort for me to choose a positive mindset. Awareness slowly fills my body. I breathe. I usually sigh, thinking, “Here we go again.” Then i stop myself. That’s no way to start a day, especially when i have so much to be thankful for. I have a nice car, a Mac Pro, an iPhone, an Apple Watch, a sic bike, friends, my relative health, an ocean view … the list goes on. Tack on being a white male living in southern California, one of the wealthiest areas of the world. I’ve got it good.
I grab my right leg and place it on the floor. Then my left. I leverage my body, angling towards the floor, to pull my upper body up. Momentum plays a key role here. I can’t interrupt this motion, otherwise i will fall back down. First things first. I need to pee. I always say, “I gotta go before i go!” Now that i’m sitting up, i need to get to the bathroom fast or the task of changing and cleaning myself will be added to the weight on my mind. I angle my chair and perform the automatic motion of transferring to it. This needs to be precise. Any miscalculation will result in splitting my butt cheeks open on the metal sideguards. This would mean weeks of bandaging and laying down. Something i can’t afford right now.
Once in my chair, i’m mobile. I zip to the bathroom, not forgetting to hit “Play” on the coffee maker on my way by. The bathroom light is blinding. I hold one eye closed as i lock my brakes in front of the toilet. I would rather forego the light and the imminent adrenal taxing, but inserting a catheter in the dark is not the easiest task, especially pre-coffee. I feel a huge relief when i urinate. Its not physical, its mental. Being incontinent, the thought is always there. You can never truly relax. In the moments after urination, that thought is gone for a while and the sense of relief is almost euphoric.
I’m not one of those people who brushes their teeth right away either. It messes with the taste of my coffee and i want to brush my teeth after coffee. This may have no basis, but i feel brushing before takes off any overnight coating that could help prevent staining. Brushing after takes off that coating along with any coffee that might want to stick around. The danger is that if i get straight to work and get focused, i don’t end up brushing my teeth—or putting on pants for that matter—until late morning, when i pull myself out of the dense computer fog that is video editing.
Before sitting down with my coffee, i open the drapes and let the natural light come in. This is a relief. The world is not over. Life is going on as usual. And this day is different too. I’m not at home. I’m in Mammoth … and i have intentions to get out whatever this thing is that lives inside me. The thing that plagues my mind. The thing that makes me want to do nothing and talk to no one. There is only one way. I need to push myself to the edge.
I move on to my second cup. This is my treat for being human, for having been through all that i’ve been through, and i enjoy it even more than the first, but in a different way. The first is like breathing life into my body for the first time. All the memories of cups of coffee in the rain, cups of coffee overlooking the foggy ocean, cups of coffee under a canopy of wise trees … all these memories flood in unison with one nostalgic sip after the other, all followed by the quintessential exhale and sigh. It all feels good. This is the feeling that gets me out of bed. Well, it’s the thought of the feeling. The second cup is much different. It’s like rebellion in liquid form. I don’t need it, but i want it. I purposefully choose indulgence over health. “I’m in control here and can do whatever the fuck i want.”
Fast forward and i’m in my bike, climbing up Mammoth Mountain. There is a slight rebellion in this as well. I’m choosing to forego taking the gondola up and climb the service roads instead. I’m not sure if it’s allowed during operational hours, but i’m doing it anyway. I have an e-assist, but i have set to one of the lowest levels. This level, i have found, is where i need it to be to pace most able-bodied riders. I give it a notch up when i’m riding with my fast friends and a notch down with less capable climbers. So i’m going the pace of an average rider and my heart rate is getting into the high 140s. I say all this to explain that i’m getting a pretty intense workout. I’m sweating. I’m breathing hard. My arms are tired … and it all feels so good! This might be a feeling you know—the feeling of destroying yourself. The feeling of letting all your anger bubble up to the surface and hammering those fucking pedals, one revolution at a time.
I dare not stop and rest either. My rear wheel slips in the loose dirt as the hill gets steep. I reach up and push the front right wheel with my right arm to keep the bike creeping along. This motion is like an overhead press. My shoulder burns. My neck starts to ache. I keep my eyes on the dirt directly below me and keep hammering.
Finally i arrive at my destination. Well, the beginning of my destination: the trailhead for Bullet.
Bullet is a trail i should probably not ride on my own. The difficulty of other trails is designated by color: green, blue or black. That’s beginner, intermediate and expert, respectively. Blacks are defined even further as single diamond or double diamond, the former being the most difficult. Bullet is above and beyond all this though. It is an orange pro-line and i’m not sure what i’m getting myself into. I do know that it has some serious rock gardens and rock drops. I am going to be challenged to my limit, but i need this. I need some sort of rebellion much larger than a second cup of coffee and with much more at stake.
I’m not nervous. I start down the trail and it’s rowdy right from the beginning. I pick my way through the first rock garden, not knowing it is completely mellow compared to what i’m going to face further along the trail. On the next section, i spy two rocks ahead, choose what think is the best line, and commit to it. I barrel into the rocks with what i think is enough speed to carry me over them, but i miscalculate and get hung up, high centered on top. I teeter totter the bike back and forth. I push my weight this way and that way. I try to unweight one wheel and push the other. All to no avail, and after about ten minutes of fighting, i give up, huffing for air. I sit up and look around. It’s silent except for the wind caressing the trees. No one is coming.
I pull the quick release on my belt and begin the process of lowering myself to the ground, taking care not to twist my leg into a bad position. Once on the ground, i push the bike up and over the rocks almost effortlessly. This makes me think that maybe i should’ve just done this in the first place. Why do we do that? Why do we fight so hard to avoid something only to end up doing it anyway and realize its actually easier than the fight we put up?
Getting back in the bike takes a series of steps. First is lifting my butt onto the leg cradle. This takes a few tries as i balance the act of bearing my weight on one arm, throwing my head forward and down. This lifts my ass in the air, all in one motion, hoping to hit the target. Once i’m sitting on the leg cradle, the next step is getting my butt from the leg cradle into the seat. My pants get hung up on the edge, and i need to get the angle of approach just right, but i’ve done this so many times now that i’ve got it pretty good. I fold my right leg back and place it in the leg cradle on which i was just sitting. My left leg takes a little yoga move to get it up and over the bike to other side, where i put it in place.
Now, i’m back in the bike. I strap in, put my pack on, exhale in relief and start down the trail again to find the most difficult and sudden drop i will face on the trail. A series of drops lead up to it, so there is no seeing it ahead of time, and since i have never ridden this trail before, i have no idea what is on the other side. The world just ends. I don’t see it until i am on top of it.
I creep to the edge and look over. It’s only about four feet down but that’s not the hard thing about it. It will put me in an off-camber situation that could easily roll me and the bike. When a roll happens, it happens fast and the chances for injury or breaking something on my bike are very high. These are the kind of stakes i need in my little rebellion. I freeze on the edge, gripping the brakes. I creep down a little further and things get very precarious, almost sideways, while I am pretty much vertical on the edge of the rock. I need to let go. It’s the only way. Otherwise, i will surely flip over. I take a series of large breaths to psyche myself up and do it. I let go.
My body instinctively takes over and i roll over it no problem, exclaiming with relief and a huge sense of accomplishment. Everything after that seems effortless. I actually do a drop much larger, closer to six feet, as if it is nothing. A series of three- and four-foot drops in succession don’t even phase me, flowing from one to the next. I get stuck a little bit in a couple other spots but am able to free myself. In the end, i make it down in one piece. Well, all in one piece, except my anger. I left that out there.
