I rode my mountain bike yesterday! This was a big step for me. At first every rock I saw on the downhills was good enough reason to get off and walk it. But, after 10 miles (Chris was leading which is why we rode practically to Santa Fe), I finally got my nerve back.
If Chris didn't regale you with the story of my demise, here it is: Two Saturdays ago we decided to go ride in Pine Flats. We were on the bikes for maybe 5 minutes before I flew down a hill, hit a rock, and went over my handlebars. With mountain biking it is inevitable that you go over the handlebars at some point. But the idea always terrified me. I didn't actually know I went over. Somehow I was on the ground with my arms out in front of me like I was sliding into home plate. Chris got a front row seat to the action and said I looked very graceful in the air (at least that's what I imagine).
Well, my shoulder hurt and the bike had landed on top of me. Content to just lie there for awhile, or all day if necessary, Chris insisted on pulling the bike off and wanted me to get up. We had a power struggle, he won. And then I passed out. Right in his arms. Poor guy had to carry me out of the ravine. As soon as I came to, I was able to push my bike up the hill back to the car. Thus endeth the ride.
It's taken two weeks for my shoulder to be well enough to ride, and that long to get the nerve back up. But, I suppose 10 miles before dinner can pretty much get you over anything.