In the past few weeks, I've done little other than school, Mountain biking, and strength. Well, that isn't true but those three are the most prevalent. Anyways, the first time I went mountain biking kind of soured me on it for a while. I remember thinking I was finally done with the hard parts when we got to the top of tlb, that the ride was just going to be easy cruising from here on out. Because how hard could going downhill be right? Wrong, very, very wrong. So, at the top, Steve told me just to keep my feet even on the pedals, lift my butt off the seat, and I'd be a-okay. Well, I did that, went top speed, and crashed into a tree and sprained my ankle, and ripped my pants. I then had to ride all the way up Bragg Hill because Cindy didn't believe me when I said that yes, it did felt like I'd broken my ankle.
When we got back to school and I went to PT, Evita told me that my ankle was three times the size it was supposed to be, it was already bruising and that I wasn't allowed to walk on it for a few days. Cue my first experience with crutches. And I was extremely mad at Cindy because Evita told me that if I hadn't had to bike up Bragg it wouldn't have been half as bad. I think I went Mountain Biking once that year, after that first time. I hated it, and walked my bike all the way down.
The next fall, we went mountain biking once on tlb, and it went fine, I only sprained my ankle, but not badly, and I finally went down a hill and over a tree. I was ecstatic, believing I was now a professional mountain biker. Again, I was so very wrong. Because that spring, when Ben and Mikki took us mountain biking in Randolph, or somewhere near there, misfortune fell upon my head like a two ton brick wall.
We had finally biked all the way to the top of the last hill, over what felt like miles and miles of shale and never-ending incline. I was tired, hot, and annoyed that Ben had made me work this hard, but, nonetheless was excited for the downhill, because those trails we all man made, and had little trees or rocks to bumps into, and were wide and almost clear cut. It was ideal. I think it was maybe the first or second hill we went down, after taking a group picture at the top, talking about the play for the next year, and Katie Campbell's impending knee surgery, when I fell. I mean, I got a little over-confident and started flying, flying, down the shale and when Ana stopped because she was scared, I did the thing you are never, ever, ever supposed to do. I pushed the front brakes, and only the front brakes. And I flipped over my handlebars, my bike leaving gear marks and tire skids all over my clothes, face and legs. I then slid, headfirst, into the bank my bike had already found. I sat there, for a good minute, trying to understand what had happened, why I couldn't breathe, and what was going on. I tried to unclip my helmet, but as I felt the top of it, I knew that wouldn't have really done much. I'd split my helmet. like, almost clearly in two. And I could hear a girls voice yelling, I think it was something like, "MIKKI! Katy's dead!!" I tried to call out, to tell this frightened person I was fine, but I couldn't speak.
So I waited until the air returned to my lungs and picked myself up, meeting Mikki's and Mika's and Ana's eyes. I was quite embarrassed, and they were probably worried. I walked my bike down, all the way, after all the girls had gone by, crying. And I didn't mountain bike for a while after that. Wonder why.
Anyways, this past summer, and even these past few weeks, I've really improved my mountain biking. I mean, I can almost keep up with Kara and Nate, and for those of you who don't understand what a big deal that is, its a big deal for me. Because I can finally, finally, push myself hard going down those hills.
Anyways that wasn't really relevant to anything but i liked the story. I'm going to Chile tomorrow. This week was an emotional rollercoaster. Last night was a very good night, and today would have been a very good day if life hadn't gotten in the way, as life tends to. It's fine. It's always fine.
Gazelles and Purple Elephants:
The words are so loud in my head I wonder how they don't break out
Running towards the horizon like the heard of wild animals they are
And the sun eclipses them and they are heard
And someone can finally, finally understand
finally stand under the sun with me
And I can pass the baton to someone else
like I did with the purple elephant that day in the hospital
When she was still so tiny and new
That day I said the words and didn't know what they meant
And I still don't know what they mean
But now all I can see are the stars
My skin still warm from the sun
And the hope that came along with it
Before I stepped on that plane and flew away from the sun
Whose warmth felt everlasting
There were no words running then
I wonder if they will ever be truly free
And as I've always done I kept running
I jumped in the train and let it take me
Every time it jolted on the rails I pretended it didn't hurt
But it did
And I'm still waiting for the train to crash
And the animals and heards to escape
And I can finally, finally stand under the sun
And someone can finally understand what those words mean
What I mean
And someone can finally know all the things I know
And I will stand in the sun
Letting it totally and completely eclipse me
As if I never was there
And had always known its warmth
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