"Bike, Bike, Repeat" by Nina Mitchell
Climbing is tough. On single track. With my mom’s mountain bike. Up Oak Knoll. 2,000 feet of elevation. With rocks. And roots. It’s only a blue trail. I am in my lowest gear. Why is the path getting steeper?
The sun shines through the trees reflecting off the bike’s neon yellow paint. I can hear the wind whistling and fighting to get through the trees, but I can’t feel any of it. It’s nice out today. Well, it’s too hot for biking. Fine for swimming but not biking because I’m just hot. Sweat is starting to bead up under my helmet, and the new CamelBak my mom got me is digging into my back.
How is Baxter so good at this? I keep slipping over the rocks. My hands grip tighter to the handlebars trying to keep myself in control. Even through my gloves, I can feel the calluses and blisters that have formed throughout the week. I just need to keep pedaling. Just keep pedaling. That’s what you have to do in biking, otherwise, you will fall.
“Hurry up,” Will says as he pedals up behind me.
I push my feet down on the pedals faster, like I’m stomping down into the earth. I just have to make it to the top then the climb will be over. Turning into the last slithering loop the trail begins to look less like a snake covered in rocks and more like a snowboarding halfpipe filled with jumps and tricks. In front of me, Baxter is lying down, his bike blocking the trail.
“Why is everyone going so slow?” he asks.
“Stop,” I exclaim in frustration.
Baxter is good at mountain biking and that’s annoying. Singletrack takes lots and lots of practice. I drop my bike down next to his and walk over to the rock he is sitting on. My legs are sore, but it's okay. I made it. Now I get to go down.
***
This is our first day out biking for the week. We have climbed up the steep Outdoor Center trails on double track and now get to take down the singletrack, black trails. It’s not too hot out but I can sense sweat trickling into my hair. Thinking about having to go down makes me feel a rush of heat, like when I take a sip of hot chocolate after skiing all day.
“I’ll sweep,” I say as I slowly sneak to the back of the group, trying to get my bike smoothly around everyone else.
“Oh, it’s okay, I will sweep. You can go up with the boys,” Andrea says.
“Alright then,” I say hesitantly. I slowly slide onto my bike and can almost feel my legs shaking.
“Everyone ready?” Andrea asks. And now we have to go.
“YEEAAAHHHH,” Baxter calls as he dives down into the trail.
Will follows so now I have to go. It’s okay, I just have to go. I adjust my gloves and lift myself onto the seat. I drop down into the trail and quickly discover that it is even worse than I was expecting. The quick drops and turns over and down the roots and rocks are throwing me off. The bike isn’t turning. THE BIKE ISN’T TURNING. I have zero control. Dirt is flying up from behind Will, covering the trail from my sight and making me feel like I’m in the desert; but this is worse.
“I LOVE THIS,” Will screams.
I don’t, I need to get in control. I take a deep breath and grip tightly at my handlebars, putting more pressure on the front of my body. Now I can steer! I find a rhythm and suddenly the riding is more exciting. I am smiling without even realizing it and the ride doesn’t seem as difficult.
I whip around a turn and immediately jam down onto my brakes. My fingers are cramped, and my legs have been flexed for so long that they feel rigid with tension. Directly in front of me the trail drops. DROPS. I don’t have a dropper post like everyone else, so I just have to try and go down. I lift myself off the seat and squeeze my legs around behind me so I can lean back and hold on.
I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.
Nope.
As soon as I tilt forward down the path, I can tell I’m not balanced out enough. My arms slip and there I am, flying forward. I crash over my handlebars, thankfully into a soft dirt pile, with my bike resting on top of me, stabbing into the back of my leg. It takes me a minute to realize what happened. My back hurts and I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips, streaming down into my feet. The sun is shining in my eyes but I can’t get up because, well, it hurts.
Wait. That was kind of fun; I just need help to get up.
***
“Are you serious? That sounds amazing!” I say in the car driving home from a week of biking at Sugarloaf.
“Yeah, there is this website I found that takes a small group of teens out for a bunch of different bike trips all over the world,” my mom says. “You could go with Baxter and tour Europe or take a trip across the whole country!”
“I would love that.”
“Okay,” my mom replies. “I can text Andrea about it once we get home to see if it’s something Baxter would be interested in doing.”
I have been dying to do bike trips forever. But this trip showed me that not only can I handle the challenge, but also that I love biking enough to follow through with it.
Nina Mitchell is 13 years old; she lives in Orono, Maine, and attends Orono Middle School. Nina loves playing soccer, skiing, and running; she has two cats, named Coco and Clem; and she loves jumping out of trees or off bridges into the water.