blood

It's important to push my comfort zones, I know that. I believe that. It's important to keep on growing, try new things, not say no until you've said yes at least once. And so, with MissB in tow, I headed out for my first women's mountain biking workshop.

Day 1 was awesome and relatively simple. Okay, the wall ride did shake me a little. And I really felt like the double-berm was going to be the death of me, but by the fourth try it was fluid and smooth and I was wooting.

And then day 2. Starting right out on a trail I’ve hated so much before I walked it. Five minutes in, if that, catastrophe strikes and I go down. Hard. On my knee, and then over on my side. The rest of the group waited around a corner, looking aghast equally at my pale shaken face and oozing crimson legs.

It took all I had in me not to give up, but I didn’t. And yet, I haven’t been back on my bike since. It might be a coincidence. It might be the lingering smell of blood.