Tango Til They're Sore

My kids had soccer games today out by Quarry Ridge that were spaced a couple of hours apart, so I decided to kill the time on my mountain bike. I haven't been on it for a while, so I felt a little daunted as I pulled it out of the back of my wagon and mounted it. It was a hot day, and rather than feeling excitement for the trails that lay ahead as I often do, the thought that was running through my head as I drove away from the parking lot was more like: "Am I really up for this?"

I have learned, mainly from my yoga practice, that these moments when we don't really want to do something can actually be fruitful in terms of working through inertia. There's a fine line, though, between pushing yourself a little and disregarding a voice that says in no uncertain terms that it really needs to rest. I knew this was a time that I could push myself a little, so I set a goal for myself: I will ride for at least an hour. Even if I'm tired. Even if it's hard. Even if I don't really feel like it.

Like with my yoga practice, once I got into it, I was fine, and I started to enjoy it. I must not have been being super mindful while I was riding, though, because twice when I was on my way down from the top, I meant to turn right to take the Tunnel Trail and went straight instead. The second time this happened, I made the perhaps-not-so-wise decision to make a quick right turn after the ideal point and, not surprisingly, ended up falling off my bike and rolling -- literally doing a backward somersault -- down the hill.

I didn't hurt myself. I didn't hurt my bike. And as I picked myself and my bike up off the ground, I realized I had just done -- by accident -- something that I don't do in my yoga practice for fear I will hurt myself. In sanskrit the word for the backward somersault is chakrasana, which literally means wheel, and if you're curious you can watch this little how-to video.

The whole experience was really very liberating. The song that went through my head immediately after it was one I've already used for a mountain bike crash -- one that was painful -- but also one in which there was someone there to catch my fall.

When I got back home, the ipod pulled up this wacky number from Tom Waits, which somehow fits:

Well ya play that Tarantella
All the hounds they start to roar
And the boys all go to hell
Then the Cubans hit the floor
And they drive along the pipeline
They tango till they're sore
They take apart their nightmares
And they leave them by the door.

Let me fall out the window
With confetti in my hair
Deal out jacks or better
On a blanket by the stairs
I'll tell you all my secrets
But I lie about my past
So send me off to bed forever more.

Make sure they play my theme song
I guess daisies will have to do
Just get me to New Orleans
And paint shadows on the pews
Turn the spit on that pig
Kick the drum and let me down
Put my clarinet beneath your bed
Till I get back in town.

Let me fall out the window
With confetti in my hair
Deal out jacks or better
On a blanket by the stairs
I'll tell you all my secrets
But I lie about my past
So send me off to bed forever more.

Off to bed I go...