Trails & Tails, Falls & Sprawls

As written in my post about trail running, one thing I love about where I live are the trails through the woods. In this never-ending lockdown, I'm sure many of us - most of us? - have been contemplating our lives and our choices. Apart from when I have been studying, I have always chosen to live in the countryside. During periods of my life (wow, that made me feel old, maybe I can word that better...) that has meant earning minimum wage in order to live in a place where I can pursue my love of outdoor sports. I'm fortunate now to have evened out the scales a little, as I pursue a career (ish?) alongside my rural life.

Local trails

These days I live amongst the fields and trees. Throughout the valley sides which are lined with broadleaf and conifers are labyrinths of forest roads, with secret intersections of weaving narrow trails. In these strange times, these trails are my solace.

I know them best from running, but I also bumble along them on a bike. 

Ben goes first, quickly building speed and soon disappearing amongst the trunks and foliage. Orchy follows, tail wagging. He is his master's dog - chasing Ben on the mountain bike is his favourite past time (apart from eating). I go last. I always go last. Slow and steady, and not yet in agreement with the phrase "speed is my friend", I like to rattle along at my own pace.

 A week or so ago I was moaning about my knee pads being too big for me. 

"You don't really need to wear them," Ben said to me. "You only need to wear them if you fall off."

It's true that falling off my bike isn't a regular occurrence. I'm too slow. In fact, when I fall off my bike it tends to be because I'm too slow, with not enough oomph to get my front wheel up and over a big lump of rock.

"I think they give me peace of mind," I said.

Knee pads as big as my head. Thanks to Ben for the photo

Typical that on that very day, what should happen? I fell off my bike. No, actually, that's wrong, it was worse than that. I fell off Ben's bike. And I cried. A proper tantrum cry. In a split second I forgot a whole 26 years of life experience and I cried like a toddler. I was messing around, and it was my fault that Ben knocked me off, but I was wounded as much by the fact that he sent me flying.

Where was Orchy in all this? He kept his distance. Not such a loyal dog that he came to see if I was OK. I think he knew I was OK really. He amused himself until we set off again. He looked at me as though nothing happened. Probably to save me feeling any more embarrassed. Looking up at me, his tongue hanging down below his chin: "You fell off? Really? I hadn't noticed."

Morals of the story?

1) Learn how to control emotions. Or, in other words, man-up princess.

2) It's not about wearing knee pads. It's about wearing knee pads that actually fit. My right knee is a big scab after my crash. Needless to say, I have new ones now.

3) The mountain biking during lockdown phrase of "no car, not far, no gnar" clearly does not apply to me. 

Back to trail running for the time being then :-)

Disclaimer: We are careful. We are abiding by lockdown guidelines. I did not require any form of rescue or hospitalisation - it really wasn't that bad. The main thing I injured was my pride.