You’re doing fine! Just take a rest. Most guys are rolling around in the dirt and throwing up at this point!
I could hear these words coming from a longtime family friend, but I couldn’t see them, or anything else in front of me, for that matter. It was the first time in my life I’d ever done anything so intensely that I went blind.
Do you want a ride home? I can bring the car if you want, really, it’s no big deal.
I think I said I just needed ten minutes to rest. I’m not really sure what I said, or if it made any sense. Thoughts of what I would do to prepare for a life without sight raced through my head faster than I had climbed the dirt hill in the back country of Orange County.
I had expected to reach the top and enjoy the browns and dull greens of rolling hills on that crisp December day during a trip home. Instead, I wondered if I would ever see again.
I was out of breath and my heart was pounding in my head. The world went black soon after I clipped out of the mountain bike that I was riding for the first time. I groped around, stumbled to a bench, and put my elbows on my knees, sure that I was looking straight ahead.
Nothing. Just black. I opened my eyes wider and looked left to right. No valley. No cacti. No ribbon of road in the distance. Just black.
I could hear everything going on around me and feel the bench beneath me, the man next to me, and my own hot breath escaping out of my tired lungs and the cool air invading soon after.
I tried desperately to remember the last thing I saw, as if to create a memento to tell people about when I would have to answer the inevitable questions about my new condition. Even that image would not appear in my mind.
Finally, after about five minutes, I began to see the shape of the landscape and the figures of three other people around me, able to interpret their depth and proximity to me but still no colors. Just black.
Ha ha, wow! You just went ZOOMING up the mountain, man! You really should have paced yourself!
He had been singing a different tune all the way up the hill, getting me to turn on full steam and plunge ahead. I’m not sure if “encouraged” or “duped” is the correct word to use.
You’ve got 24-year-old arms and legs, why don’t you use them? Go on, go ahead!
I’m a sucker for challenges because I still think life is a contest, especially if I’m already dripping in sweat or in a uniform of some sort. This is why I retired.
Eventually, sight and sanity returned and we continued on the rugged trail. I succumbed to the awesome forces of nature and gravity many more times before we made it back to sweet, flat land.
I had had so much fun in my first three months with KCTC that I took this fellow up on his offer to take me mountain biking, figuring it would be at least as fun as the road. He graciously provided me with a bicycle and proper clothes, shoes, and water, and we went out with two of his pals from the neighborhood.
Getting used to the clip-in pedals and shoes was enough for a few spills before we even got to the rough road. Going the right way on the street (they go the wrong way in Japan) and bounding right over curbs and obstacles on the bike weirded me out at first, but that all turned into fun by the end of the day.
Mountain biking is completely different from riding on the road, but I began to recognize the elements on the mountain bike that are present on my current bike, a hybrid. It was exciting to go barreling down dirt hills, focusing on the area immediately in front of me, grappling with gravity, and screaming from the sheer pleasure it brought me.
Downing beers at the end and waking up sore for the next two days wasn’t so bad, either!
I enjoy the road because I can broaden my focus, think about distant physical and mental goals, and masticate other thoughts while my body takes care of the task at hand. I’ve found some answers to life’s questions while the legs just keep pedaling.
My world got a little bigger on the last Saturday of 2007, and I plan to go give mountain biking another shot while I’m home for Christmas this year. Hopefully I’ll be able to see it all this time.
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