What a rush!

I have a friend who is a slight adrenaline junkie. Slight, in the same way that Austin gets slightly hot in August.  I am convinced that there is not a physical endeavor that would ever beat her in a stare down.  She is audacious, and I love that about her.

I, on the other hand, am not a thrill-seeker, truth be told.  I like a physical challenge as much as the next person, but when it comes down to it, I’m a closet wussie.  I don’t like to hurt, bleed, be extraordinarily filthy, or face imminent death.  Despite any outward bravado, I am a certified scaredy-cat. 

So this week, I am skidding down a trail on a borrowed mountain bike behind my aforementioned friend, and when I hear her whoop and yell "what a rush!” at the bottom of a hill, I almost pee my pants.

Three of us are biking together on a lonely and breathtakingly rugged trail together.  We alternate between fits of bawdy laughter and respectful silence.  


Hawks circle above us, the air smells rich and sweet, and Texas wildflowers are springing out of every rock and crevice on the path, which I note immediately, are quite large and prolific (the rocks and crevices, not the flowers).  

My third biking amigo is no shrinking violet, either.  Somewhere in her remarkable DNA, she has an extra gene that she uses to enjoy all of life’s adventures and physical activities to the absolute fullest. She inspires me.  I am in great company.

So, white-knuckled and with my quads screaming, I skid and stumble on over the 14 mile course.  Has anyone in the history of mountain biking ever clamped the brake for 2 straight hours?  I think probably not.  


I fall repeatedly.  I look ridiculous. I opt out of the saddle and carry my bike for embarrassingly long stretches of terrain, and I realize that at each hairpin turn or steep descent that I am scared.

And I love it.

Being scared makes me talk to myself in a way that being perfectly comfortable and confident cannot.  When I admit “I’m scared”, it starts an inner conversation that is worth paying attention to. Why am out here?  Why is it important to me?  


This week, I felt fearful for my body, but my soul was full to bursting.  Creation speaks to me, friends fortify me, sport strengthens me.  A little scared brings out the important.

What a rush!