A nice mountain biking story in today's Guardian (if you click on the link,
it's the second story down the page):
<URL:http://tinyurl.com/2lxzq>
d.
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One flew over the handlebars
It is an odd sensation to feel sympathy for George Bush, but the pictures of
him yesterday showing a line of grazes running down his nose to his chin and
the torn-up palms of his hands produced an unexpected rush of fellow
feeling. Not three months ago, I too showed up for work on Monday morning
with almost identical abrasions collected in the same way - falling off my
bike.
The US president had taken a tumble off his mountain bike during a trek
round his ranch in Texas. He has taken up cycling, since, it has been
reported, his knees have been showing signs of wear from the ferocious
running routine we used to read about. Being a load-bearing form of
exercise, cycling places much less stress on joints. But there is always the
risk of what the French onomatopoeiacally term "une chute" - a crash.
Occasionally, you skid and fall off to the side, but the most common type of
crash involves going over the handlebars: the bike stops, and you don't. If
you're lucky, you perform a balletic somersault and land on your bum or
back, escaping with bruises. More often, though, you simply go head first
and land on your front. At the more serious end of the spectrum, common
injuries include broken wrists and collarbones and concussion. In milder
cases, you will end up with nothing worse than a nasty dose of what cyclists
call "road rash". And that's what Bush has - although, technically speaking,
he was riding off-road at the time.
Mountain-biking has its own particular learning curve. At first, the novice
tends to be cautious when faced with the unfamiliarity of riding a bike over
uneven ground up and down improbable gradients. But, as he realises that the
modern all-terrain bicycle, with its disc brakes and full suspension, makes
light work of zooming down rutted, rocky trails at what formerly seemed
suicidal speeds, his confidence grows at almost equal velocity.
Trouble comes, however, when that gathering self-assurance reaches the point
of hubris. Soon, a feeling of omnipotence and invincibility blinds him to
risk: he tears down that single-track gung-ho, reckless, unable to imagine
adverse consequences. It is at precisely this moment that the mountain-biker
comes a serious cropper. A little too much speed, an awkward tree root, a
momentary misjudgment ... result: the president eats dirt.
The main hurt, once you have applied the Savlon, is dented pride: you feel
foolish. In time, though, you come to see the good side. By falling, you've
found your limits. Maybe you even learned a little humility.
Matt Seaton