Over The Handlebars

For fitness and stress release, I enjoy riding my mountain bike up the many fire-roads found in this area of the L.A. foothills. I love the whole experience of burning lungs and quads for the reward of a spectacular view at the pinnacle of the ascent. One particular four-mile climb has an ornery hairpin turn that is especially feisty on the descent. Though I have taken this rutted trail hundreds of times over the years I am perplexed by the number of near wrecks I've had at this very spot. Like an old friend, this turn awaits me to test my agility and experience. Fortunately, I have never gone over the handlebars or lost any layers of skin or blood to my old friend. Maybe it's because experience tells me there is only one way to tackle this particular turn—with much patience.

Ahh, you are not going to get away without me telling you of another hairpin nemesis in my life. The one called: Waiting-on-God-through-his-absolute-silence. It's a long name, but what the heck. Like nothing else, waiting on God seems to have the potential of sending me over the handlebars. I have never been good at waiting. I find it utterly nerve wracking to have to endure extended times of delay, especially here within this tent-life. I want to yell out, "Come on! What's the hold up?" Suddenly I realize it is exactly at that point when I find myself engaged in a free-fall over the front end.

The truth is I think I'm getting better at navigating through certain turns and avoiding a crash in life. Still, sometimes I wish there were a "patience pill" I could take along this particular stretch of the rut-filled trail.