Smithereens

I dream about going riding, having adventures, watching sunrises and sunsets from atop mountains, and being in far away places.  One of my most favourite places to go is a place I call Smithereens.  It's that drunken euphoria you can only reach by bicycle at the end of a long day of riding your favourite tracks with great friends.

I seldom get to Smithereens these days.  There is no good reason why, I just never quite get there.

I got very close the last time I headed to Rotorua.  I was with Michelle who I hadn't ridden with for a long time, even though we had ridden together many times before.  On this day, she was ripping.  I was not.  She was in the midst of a training program to prepare her for a multi-day tour and stage race through Italy.  I was not.  She was bombing through the trail with accuracy and confidence. I was not.

But I sure did get a super high on riding through the trails with her.  I'd occasionally get in front and get a bit of a lead with my short-lived bursts of enthusiasm.  Michelle would come quietly and confidently up the trail and be ready to move on while I could still hear my heart beating in my ears.

Following along behind Michelle, I got a good lesson in being confident on the bike and not panicking on the "scary" stuff.  (It's really not that scary.)  Her 5-inch travel trail bike was lapping it up amidst the chatter and squeak of a well-used training machine.  My 29er hardtail was steamrolling the trail and I was rediscovering my abilities - it helped that I unlocked my fork after the first few descents.

I got so close to Smithereens I could almost see it.  If it weren't for my wobbly legs, fuzzy vision, and my huge grin squishing my cheeks up and making my eyes all squinty, I would have made it.

Michelle is on her way to Italy tomorrow on a big adventure to a far away place.  I'm jealous, but I needn't be.  I could always go for a ride to Smithereens.  Maybe I'll even take the bus.