I want to ride it where I like

Quite a few years ago (nearly seven, to be exact), I took my relatively-new mountain bike out on a single-track trail with a good friend of mine, and rode about 3 miles over the hills towards the ocean without another person in sight before losing control and snapping something in my ankle.

My friend had ridden off up ahead of me so no one saw my ridiculous little maneuver that sent my body in one direction and my bike in the other... with my foot. I heard and felt the pop, and knew that something bad had just happened. It went from bad to worse, of course.

Since my friend never bothered to glance behind him to ensure I was following, some 15 minutes passed with me sitting helplessly beside the trail bleeding from my several wounds (including a doozy where the pedal spun around and punctured my shin), contemplating the possible scenarios involving manly park rangers and helicopter evacs. But when he finally doubled back to find me, he had the gall to actually yell at me angrily for wrecking the day.

So, I basically had no choice but to suck it up, limp and ride on my broken foot the 3 miles back to the car, by which time my left sock and shoe were completely blood-soaked and my right foot had swollen and turned a horrible purple color from toe to heel. Somewhere along that grueling ride back I got an apology, but honestly I'm not sure I've ever completely forgiven that friend. Sad, but true.

Anyway, I never went to the doctor for an x-ray since whatever ligament that snapped wasn't likely to get sewn back together, so I kept my foot up and on ice for two days, and hobbled around with an ankle brace for a month before I regained full range of motion. I've been on my bike many times since then, of course, but I've been a lot more cautious, certainly.

Sadly, no amount of caution can completely make up for the vast quantity of klutziness I possess.

Last weekend, being a glorious 3-day weekend, I revisited that very same trail in the heart of Point Reyes with a different friend, and we took our bikes out as far as the trail led. Nichole did amazing, I have to say, for her first trail ride; I can't say the same about me.

In my defense, I haven't been on my bike much in the last year, and I'd never been trail riding with my clipless pedals. So that will take some practice. I did come back all in one piece, though, with virtually no additional emotional scars. So, the new scabs and fading green contusions aside, I deem the recent adventure a rousing redemptive success.