Catching air

I braved the horrible traffic on Champlain bridge. I repressed the envy to drive furiously passed the annoying commuters going back home after a hot, stuffy day in the office. I was trying to be on time to my weekly outing with a bunch of ladies who ride.

Every Thursdays, a bunch of women gather up in Bromont to ride together and laugh and encourage each others. It’s a sacred time for me and that’s why I submit myself to this insane traffic, every single Thursday since May. How can people do this every day, it boggles me.

Last week, I finally jumped that little rock on Yak Attak, a smooth, flowy trail. That little rock is right at the beginning of the trail and  offers a very smooth landing but it stops me every single time. I have been taking the chicken pass to the right of the little rock every week as all the girls in my group had gradually, one by one, progressed on that little rock, marked with a black diamond (as if I needed more warning to scare me off). I was the only one who hadn’t done it yet.

Towards the end of our ride, we got to that trail, and all aligned one after another, readying ourselves for the little rock. I had decided from the beginning of the ride that I was going to do it this time but I knew I had to do it quickly and avoid psyching myself out. So instead of lining up with the girls, I mumbled something like “I got to do this” between my teeth and launched in it. And I did it. I landed with a high-pitch “wooooooooohooooo” echoed by the corresponding high-pitched woohoos from my girlfriends who stayed behind, a little stunned.

I had been slowly building up resentment from being the last one who had not done it. I was blaming the fact that I was older (approaching 40) and that I had only started mountain biking recently (3 years ago). But during the celebratory tail gating party, I looked at my girlfriends and realized how wrong this reasoning had been.

In front of me, four super eager, filled with enthusiasm and determination, kind and cheerful forty-or-so year old ladies were high-fiving each others. Half of them have kids who are entering their teens. I had expected finding my excuses among a bunch of younger chicks, blessed with ignorance and arrogance. I did not expect to find myself in a pack of mature she-wolves. That made me laugh at myself. *insert humble emoticon*


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