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