Rossi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deathpixie) wrote2001-04-08 09:36 pm
deathpixie) wrote2001-04-08 09:36 pm
True Confessions of an Adrenaline Junkie.
I'm back, after spending about four hours on our mountain bike ride in the Baranduda Range. And if I wasn't so absolutely shagged, I'd be bouncing all over the room.
I'm bouncing on the inside. ;)
We spent the first couple of hours climbing. And climbing. And climbing so more. By the end I was mentally cursing BRM and wishing an asteroid would fall on him, because I was so tired and felt so unfit, and that I was slowing everyone down. I HATE uphill. Even on my touring bike, on a nice flat road, I hate going uphill. On a MTB which you've not ridden off-road much before, up a steep, washed-out four wheel drive track, it's ten times worse. I think I swore under my breath without stopping for the last half hour.
Then we hit the downhill.
I swear, I was wearign the biggest, most manical grin by the time we reached the bottom. Tearing down said dirt track, jumping over rocks and logs and potholes, hands cramping from using the brakes so much because of the steepness of the grade, skidding and sliding and thinking you're about to sail off into the bush... I loved every secodn of it. BRM says I was grinning from ear to ear all the way down. I was scared shitless, but I've never felt so alive, dancing on the edge of at least some pretty serious gravel rash... All I wanted to do at the bottom was go back up and do it again, preferably by helicopter so I didn't have to climb up that bloody hill again. :) I think I have the beginnings of a serious obsession happening here.
At one point, I stopped half-way down, to catch my breath and to cut my speed - I was starting to have trouble keeping it under control - and in that moment, it was dead quiet. No trail motorbikes, which we'd been encountering all afternoon. No voices or brake squealing from the others, two of whom were behind, one ahead. Just the wind in the trees and my heart pounding. And I could look out over the valley, see sleeping green paddocks, the rain clouds massing over the hills, the sky turning the slightest pink at the edge of the west... It was the most perfect moment.
Even later, when we got caught in the rain riding home and I was so tired and my knee started aching from riding so far on sealed roads on the MTB, I was able to hold onto that moment, that feeling. And now, I feel tired and drained, and happy.
I'll sleep very well tonight. :)
Sometimes I wish I could package up feelings like these, and save them for later, or put them in parcels and send to those who need them, like Tangles, who is going through so much at the moment, but never fails to make me smile, or Heatherly, who is one of the most gentle people I've ever met. Or Indibabe, whose back is giving her trouble now, or Seraph, with her longing for wide open skies and uncluttered spaces. Distilled happiness, a way of sharing how I feel with those I call my friends. A way to see what I see, feel what I feel, the times when it's so sweet to be alive.
I may not be able to bottle and mail my happy feelings, but I can share them, and I do. *hugs all* Take care, everyone, hold onto hope even if it seems there isn't any. There is still much in this screwed-up world that makes it worth living.
I'm bouncing on the inside. ;)
We spent the first couple of hours climbing. And climbing. And climbing so more. By the end I was mentally cursing BRM and wishing an asteroid would fall on him, because I was so tired and felt so unfit, and that I was slowing everyone down. I HATE uphill. Even on my touring bike, on a nice flat road, I hate going uphill. On a MTB which you've not ridden off-road much before, up a steep, washed-out four wheel drive track, it's ten times worse. I think I swore under my breath without stopping for the last half hour.
Then we hit the downhill.
I swear, I was wearign the biggest, most manical grin by the time we reached the bottom. Tearing down said dirt track, jumping over rocks and logs and potholes, hands cramping from using the brakes so much because of the steepness of the grade, skidding and sliding and thinking you're about to sail off into the bush... I loved every secodn of it. BRM says I was grinning from ear to ear all the way down. I was scared shitless, but I've never felt so alive, dancing on the edge of at least some pretty serious gravel rash... All I wanted to do at the bottom was go back up and do it again, preferably by helicopter so I didn't have to climb up that bloody hill again. :) I think I have the beginnings of a serious obsession happening here.
At one point, I stopped half-way down, to catch my breath and to cut my speed - I was starting to have trouble keeping it under control - and in that moment, it was dead quiet. No trail motorbikes, which we'd been encountering all afternoon. No voices or brake squealing from the others, two of whom were behind, one ahead. Just the wind in the trees and my heart pounding. And I could look out over the valley, see sleeping green paddocks, the rain clouds massing over the hills, the sky turning the slightest pink at the edge of the west... It was the most perfect moment.
Even later, when we got caught in the rain riding home and I was so tired and my knee started aching from riding so far on sealed roads on the MTB, I was able to hold onto that moment, that feeling. And now, I feel tired and drained, and happy.
I'll sleep very well tonight. :)
Sometimes I wish I could package up feelings like these, and save them for later, or put them in parcels and send to those who need them, like Tangles, who is going through so much at the moment, but never fails to make me smile, or Heatherly, who is one of the most gentle people I've ever met. Or Indibabe, whose back is giving her trouble now, or Seraph, with her longing for wide open skies and uncluttered spaces. Distilled happiness, a way of sharing how I feel with those I call my friends. A way to see what I see, feel what I feel, the times when it's so sweet to be alive.
I may not be able to bottle and mail my happy feelings, but I can share them, and I do. *hugs all* Take care, everyone, hold onto hope even if it seems there isn't any. There is still much in this screwed-up world that makes it worth living.