What's in a name...

It has been a looooooong time since I crashed on a bicycle.  I don't mean some slow/no-speed, no-brainer, spode type get off or shin shot that is instantly laugh-able even though it hurts a bit.  I mean the kind of crash that as soon as things start goin' south, life goes into slow-motion and you have time in the midst of it to distinctly say to yourself, "well, shit...this is not going to end well."  And to be more accurate, I could say it'd been a long time until, oh, about 9:45 this morning.

I enjoy a certain amount of confidence and even take a fair amount of pride in my bike handling skills.  Also, unless I'm on the trials bike or riding a wheelie, I much enjoy keeping my mountain bike tires on terra firma.  Sure, if there's a way to launch off a root or rock to avoid the next 2 or three, I'll do it, but generally any of my "air time" is with the sole purpose of finding the smoothest, quickest line on the trail.  Me and my 29er hard-tail bike ain't much for "hucking" nor search out the thrill of big drops, etc., or at least hadn't done so until last weekend.

2 hours into a nearly 4 hour ride I hooked up with some full-suspension bike riders for a pretty playful couple laps of an area trail that includes some 2 - 5 foot drops as alternate lines.  Lines that aren't any faster or more direct, really, but lines put in simply for the thrill of over-coming fear and lettin' fly.  I got a bit curious.  Curious enough that soon I found myself ready, willing and able to roll my skilled azz off anything those with shocks on both ends were willing to.

This...is FacePlant:    http://www.flickr.com/photos/1eyedz/5826341347/
(***sorry, the only good pic I could find of it is copywrited, so, this is all I can give ya***)

FacePlant is the name of a section of this KC area trail.  Seems all trail sections have names - Rancho-d-lux, Nate's Section, 8 Pin, Marci's Playground, to name a few.  I really don't know that they have any meaning other than whatever was in the namer's mind at the time it was built.  FacePlant, though, was named for a very specific reason - you don't commit to the 4-ish foot drop of this cluster of rocks, you will end up on your face. 

Technically, it isn't that difficult - it's not a matter of speed, or impending danger, really - but you gotta mean it.  This ain't a half-ass gig.  The first few times I did it I was pleasantly surprised to confirm this, finding it only necessary to relax, maintain trail speed, and shift your weight back a bit.  I must've done it close to a dozen times last weekend, much to my own enjoyment and even some notoriety as "the guy on the hard-tail did it?!!??"  I still in no way consider myself one who seeks out such things or cares to do anything bigger, badder, whatever-er, but proud that I showed FacePlant just whatizzup.

This morning's goal/plan was to simply ride steady for 3+ hours.  I wasn't there to hammer.  I also wasn't there to look for the next "big thing" to conquer.  I was just there to put time on some tough trail into my body, pure and simple.  Of course, with last weekend's "awakening", I didn't always take the smoothest, fastest, most-direct lines, either.  First time to/through the FacePlant section I did exactly what I'd done before - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling.   About an hour later I came to this section again with legs/body all warmed up, riding a good-but-notably-faster-than-first-lap pace.  Time came to choose which line to take - off or around the FacePlant drop - and I didn't think twice about sticking to the same line I'd ridden the first go 'round.

The moment my front wheel left that clump of rocks, though, I realized I should've chosen more wisely.  Just after the usual landing area, the trail bends to the right.  Not instantly, but definitely goes a direction that is not exactly "in line" with the take-off of that lovely rock.  "Shit!  I should've slowed down just a bit and/or aimed a bit more to the right" sped through my head before the slow-motion "uh oh" self-comentary noted earlier kicked in.  That slo-mo self-comentary, though, was dead-on.

I'd landed a good 3-4 feet further from the rock, and past the intended transition, than I had in any previous attempts, front tire meeting the softer, damper dirt just to the left of the trail.  Bottom-out fork?  Check.  Front tire "pushing" as it tries to grab hold?  Check.  Trail continuing to curve to the right without me?  Check.  While a major "whoops", it seemed for just a split second I was gonna get by with just a humbling low-side...until that "pushing" front tire reached a just-big-enough rock to stop its search for traction, but not my forward momentum.  Oh, that tire damn sure stopped, hard enough that 6 inches of the tire bead got pulled out, but me and the rest of the bike weren't hardly even slowed up.

It gets a bit fuzzy and painful from there, but as me and the rest of the bike got flipped over the stopped front wheel, it really was like being grabbed by the ankles and being swung over some one's head and toward the ground where I landed on my....wait for it.....wait for it.....face.  Yup, while it was thankfully on dirt and not one of the area's gazillion rocks, the left side of my face felt like the unlucky side of a rubber-band snapping.  I damn sure pinched my legs, skinned my shins/calves, and thoroughly soiled all my clothes in the rolling exit from the bike that followed, but my focus was stuck on "I can't effing believe I just did a face-plant...off of a phugging rock they named 'FacePlant'".

I then gathered myself, did a quick check of body & bike inventory and eased on back about a mile to my truck and supplies/tools therein.  It took about 15 or so minutes to straighten out the bike and stop some bleeding, but nothing on me or bike was serious.  The largest discomfort was the result of the substantial blow to my ego.  The goal remained un-satisfied, though - I still needed at least another 90 minute of riding, and I headed back to the trail to get it.  It included a good dose of "the hair of the dog that bit me"...yeah...I once again picked the same line at FacePlant - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling.  Other than that earlier substantial mis-judgement, it was a fantastic ride...

I do have to say, though, that I am terribly grateful that the section named "Jaw Breaker" was ridden several times without any similar name-sake type repercussions.

The "re-visit"

I had a long-term girlfriend during my first attempt at college.  We were together well over a year when...well...it seemed to me it'd run its course and it was time to move on.  We truly had a blast together, enjoyed amazing chemistry, but something just didn't fit so far as "forever" kinda thoughts, yanno?  Did I mention the amazing chemistry?!!??!?

Five or so years later, we were living 250 miles away from each other, but due to a work engagement (and that fact we both found ourselves single...well, single enough), I ended up staying at her place for a night.  And wow, what a night it was - intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and...well, I'll say it again:  amazing!  One of those connections that had me thinking "oh my GAWD, how or why did I let her go?  What the hell was I thinking???  When can we do this again??!!??"

We pretty quickly coordinated the next rendezvous, still a-buzz from the first, I think both of us wondering "could we make 'us' work again....?"  This 2nd "re-visit" escapade, though, just...wasn't that good, frankly.  I mean, it was pleasant, it was comfortable, it did the basic "trick", but the passion, the goosebumps, the pure thrill of the initial re-acquaintance just wasn't there.  I think we parted ways both thinking it was still way better than doing it alone, but I doubt "I can't wait to do that again!" was on either of our minds.

Encounter #3 came along I'm pretty sure out of mutual boredom, no real enthusiasm, but purely, "eh, what/who the hell else have I got to do...?"  And that is pretty much exactly how it went.  We mighta still jumped in the sack, but only cuz we'd gut-bombed ourselves at the buffet and it was time to sleep!  That planned weekender quickly got cut down to a single evening-through-morning "date".  The disappointment was obvious - no anger, no blame, no fault, just plain ol', "damn...that was hardly worth the trip."

Why do I share this wonderful, deep, emotionally mature story to the whole flippin' world? (OK, that "whole flippin' world" bit is a mild over-statement, but you get my drift)  Simply because it near-brilliantly illustrates my recently failed relationship with a love of the internal combustion persuasion.  Life changes of the past few years (foster care, adoption, dusting off a couplefew bicycles) had me experiencing that same "it'd run its course and it was time to move on" feeling. 

Then came Dr's okay to re-mount the dirt bike and that first ride was, well, intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and amazing. I was BACK, I was fit, I was fast, I was billy-bad-ass!  Let's do that again!!!  Until the second ride, where, it was still better than sitting on the couch, but wasn't near the thrilling, fist-pumpin', rock-and-rollin' groove of the first.  Finally, based on a very similar "I got a kitchen pass and there is a race today...might as well go" rationale as the third ex-companion engagement, I loaded up the gas-burning 2-wheeler and headed out...only to also get that same "damn...that was hardly worth the trip" result.

So, the above picture is from Thursday's garage clean-out/sell-out to a good friend willing to take it all for a price we both felt was a good deal.  All this may just be further proof that I'm a slow learner that has to live everything twice, but there's also a more interesting (or at least entertaining) commonality:  my romance with dirt bikes was at its best between my first and second era of pedal-power.  That ex-girlfriend "re-visit" was between my first and second marriage to the same woman.  Purely coincidence....right...???

I'll always consider some "what if's" about the KTM, dirt biking, and off-road motorcycle racing, but hopefully I will now always know it just ain't meant to be.  My memories of it all will be rather fond, no doubt, but much like that girlfriend it is a passion that simply could not be recreated.