Getting An Ass Kicking and Loving It: A Rough Mountain Ride

Chris Weiss July 19, 2008

Tribulations. Anyone who’s spent some time participating in outdoor sports is no stranger. In many ways, suffering is the currency by which we purchase our little commodities; it’s why we’re out there in the first place. On a recent mountain biking ride, I was reminded of just how large a role tribulations and suffering play in our sports, and how much they can lead way to great rewards.

I had set out to spend an afternoon riding one of my favorite local trail systems. I had no real destination or goal, just to enjoy a beautiful day upon my favorite two-wheeled vehicle.

Unfortunately, things were rocky for me from the very beginning. My allergies were raging, causing that slight congestion—not quite enough to hawk on the side of the trail, but just enough to cause a painful heaving wheeze on each stretch of uphill. And uphill was all I’d be riding—although the trail wasn’t particularly difficult it was relentless uphill climbing, which translated into a stop every couple of minutes to catch my breath. I had a strong inclination to turn around at the first short loop, which would have made my grand ride about a mile, being generous.

Instead, I pushed on, hoping to get a decent ride in. The more I rode, the better I felt and eventually the Claritin I had taken right before heading out seemed to kick in full blast. With the allergies out of the way, and plenty of day left, I was ready for a solid ride.

Then I was hit with another swift kick to the groin. I made a goal of climbing to the top of the mountain, something I’d never done before. As I made my way past previous turning points, the trail became drastically steeper and I kicked it into granny gear and sucked in that last breath and began the painful ascent. Less than a quarter of the way up, my chain became afflicted with chronic slippage and just wouldn’t stay right. As I lunged awkwardly forward and lost all momentum, I realized I’d be walking the rest of the uphill to the top.

When I finally trudged my way to the top I decided to do something that I really shouldn’t have. I kept riding. There was a trail up top that followed along the ridgeline, a trail I’d never even heard of, largely because it was constructed just last fall and wasn’t even on my older map. I couldn’t resist the urge to ride this mysterious new trail along the top of this peak, even though I was tired and running short on energy. Besides, Ridge Trail—sounded very flat and I assumed it just meandered along the mountaintop, providing different glimpses of the sweeping mountain views.

I didn’t realize how wrong I was until I bombed downhill, believing that I was winding my way back toward the trails I’d started on. Instead, the trail took a drastic turn in the opposite direction and appeared to traverse steadily into nowhereland. Time to turn around, I thought. So I did a quick 180 and began pedaling back up the hill I’d just finished down. Unfortunately, my gears had not miraculously repaired themselves and the slippage began again. It looked like it would be another long walk.

As it turned out, it was a long, brutally hot walk, as mountaintops offer very little shade from the relentless sun. At this point it was 4 or 5 hours since my last meal and I was virtually exhausted and running extremely low on fuel. I was also running extremely low on water, as my Camelback was feeling almost non-existent on my shoulders. This was proving to be a very bad idea.

Indeed it took me what seemed like 3 hours just to hike back up to the top. My breaks became longer and longer as I became more and more tired. What had seemed relatively flat on the way out was now unequivocally uphill. I stopped to rest in every shaded patch that I came across and every foot that I walked felt as though I was hiking a mile.

Then the inevitable happened. I ran out of water, in one last, slurping sip. This would not prove helpful. I was still a good mile from the top and every step was already painful.

I pushed on and began to feel dryness of mouth and the cramping of muscles as the sun beat down on my head. I wasn’t sure how close I was to dehydration, but it was an ever-present thought on my mind.

And the trail just kept going. At every turn, I expected to see the trailhead. Instead, I just saw more unrelenting lengths of trail, nearly all uphill. I had never been in this miserable shape before and began to really worry about getting out of there.

Eventually, I made my way to the top cramping muscles, dry mouth, exhausted body and malfunctioning chain all in tow. I took several moments to breathe in the sweet, cool breeze and stare out at the lush valleys and endless mountains in the distance. As I sat still catching my breath and letting my tense muscles relax, it hit me. As difficult as this ride had been and as many wrenches as had been thrown at me, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was what it was about. I don’t mountain bike because it’s easy, I do it because it is a challenge, a challenge with monumental rewards.

To be fair, it was nothing great that I had done, riders bike further, faster and easier everyday, quite possibly under much worse circumstances. I also don’t wish to glorify my own lack of preparedness in not packing enough food or water. However, on this day that it seemed nothing would go my way, I had persevered through my own tribulations and earned incredible views and a great memory, not to mention the killer winding downhill to come. I had also experienced a brilliant new piece of trail that I would otherwise have missed out on—tight singletrack blazing through wildflowers, traversing along steep drops and tight ridgeline. I won’t soon forget this trip.

Besides the immediate rewards this ass kicking brought with it some important lessons. Next time, I’ll be bringing some food and an extra water bottle. I also won’t be riding further than necessary on a hobbled bike.

In the end, a decisive kick in the ass is what we all crave, even if we don’t realize it. Outdoor sports, whichever one(s) you choose, are difficult and dangerous with ever-changing obstacles and unforeseen sets of challenges. However, the accomplishment of overcoming the random challenges that come our way and earning the sweet rewards of our game are what drive us to go out there. As counterintuitive as it may sound, I look forward to my next ass kicking.

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