Let Go of the Brakes

With two races under my belt and numerous training trips to some pretty challenging single-track trails, it's easy for me to say...that I'm still learning.  I pick up something new every time I get on the bike.  I feel like I'm making some good gearing decisions and the timing of those decisions is getting better.  My comfort level in the saddle and out is improving.  I do, however, encounter some obstacles that challenge me. 

One of the most important lessons I've learned over the past several months is that sometimes faster is better.  Many of the obstacles a rider has to clear on technical single-track trails require momentum.  If you hold the brakes, or even tap them, you lose valuable speed and stability.  That lost speed makes it increasingly difficult to roll over a log pile, or climb a steep incline.  It can also make those obstacles more hazardous.  Cresting one hill, looking down at a steep drop, the tendency of most novice riders, myself included, is to immediately grab the brakes, play it safe on the way down, and then struggle to pedal up the other side.  In order to be successful in these situations, I'm learning to let go of the brakes.

Seems like a pretty simple concept.


I'm also learning a lot about myself as I continue on my faith journey.  I'm hesitant, much like staring down at that steep drop.  I want to feel like I'm in control, grabbing both brakes, when I know in my heart that letting go will give me the stability I'm looking for.

Just as I feel the tug of gravity on a downhill run, I can feel God "tugging" at me, asking me to let him take control.  I'm letting him in, a little at a time.  But, is that really enough?

I had a conversation about that with my pastor just about a year ago.  We discussed where I was in my faith walk.  My wife was very active in serving at our church, and he noticed that I was becoming more involved as well.  Earlier in the year, I had actually expressed interest in being baptised.  I later decided against it.  I wasn't sure if I was ready.  As I explained to my pastor, there was a level of perceived control that I just wasn't ready to let go.  His answer at that moment made sense, but didn't really register until recently.  He said he thought, in my feeling that God was using me in different ways to serve the Church and the community, perhaps He was also encouraging me to "take my foot off of the brake and let Him take control." 

I was reminded of that message this weekend when my pastor asked me, and several other very amazing people, to share our stories of taking steps of faith and challenge in our lives.  How awesome that God's message to me and the lessons I'm learning in cycling are identical.

"LET GO OF THE BRAKES." 

Ride Till You're Bucked, or Don't Ride at All

As I was growing up, I heard my dad and my grandfather say some things that I never thought I'd understand.

"Greatness courts failure."

"Can't never did nuthin"

"Wish in one hand and shit in the other.  See which fills up first."

Those all made sense once I had heard them often enough.  The one I could never get a grip on until about high school was:

"Ride 'er till she bucks ya, or don't ride at all."

That one hit me hard today.  I rode in only the second mountain bike race of my life...my second in three weeks as it happens.  My training and preparation were right where they needed to be for this event.  My bike was well maintained.  I was ready to ride hard and finish 10.5 miles strong.

I got out of the starting gate in great shape, riding in the top 15 through the first half lap...and my bike failed.  The rear derailleur (shifter) jammed.  I had one gear.  Luckily, it was a climbing gear and I was able to spin my way to the start/finish line.  I finished ONE LAP out of three.  I was (am) disappointed.  I felt like I gave up.  I HATE not finishing...EVER.  However, my equipment had other ideas. 

My always positive wife reminded me that I gave it everything I had.  There was rain...no, there was a torrential downpour twenty minutes before the race started.  The course was already soft.  It was quite literally like a muddy "Slip-n'-Slide" for 3.5 miles.  She was right (of course). 

I've gotten this far not by worrying about the trail, or the weather, or getting hurt, or questioning my bike's maintenance.  I'm here because I'm pursuing an activity that I love and that I get satisfaction from.

If I had worried about any of those things, I never would have tried.