The never ending story

{this was one of the only happy moments on the trail}

Yesterday morning Brett and I were trying to decide what to do with the day, and Brett suggested going mountain biking. So I thought, sure! Why not? We planned on being gone for an hour or so, and then coming home and taking the dogs to the park. It didn't quite go over as we had planned.

We headed up into American Fork Canyon to find a trail that Brett's cousin had told him about. He said that it would be a good trail for me to try out because it was a beginner trail. Yes, I am still technically a beginner. I have been riding my mountain bike for a few years now, but my skill level is still pretty pathetic. Now that I've got that out of the way, can I continue my story? Thanks.

Where was I? Oh right, we were driving up the canyon looking for trails when we see a couple coming off of a trail to our left. Brett pulls over and asks them about the trail. They tell us that it's about ten miles, but it's a great trail. Then they tell us where we can park and find the trail head. Since neither of us have been mountain biking in the area, we take their word for it. First mistake.

We park the car in the parking area, and get the bikes off of the rack. Brett sprays down with sunscreen, and offers it to me. When I refuse it, he tosses it into the backseat of the car. We wouldn't be gone long enough for him to need it again. Second mistake.

With our camel packs on, and our shoes tied we were ready to go. We head off on the trail, and things seem to be going great. It's a beautiful day, and the scenery is amazing. The trail, at this point, is not too steep.

The next thing I know, we are headed up a pretty mean hill. I don't have the strength in my legs to keep my bike going fast enough, so I have to get off and push it up. No big deal though, this is not unusual for me. When we finally get to the top of this hill there is a really great view of Mt. Timpanogos, so we stop to rest and take some pictures. As we are standing there a few other guys that had been behind us stop as well, and while Brett is talking to them I realize that I am out of water. I forgot to top off my camel pack before we left the house, but I figure we can't have too much farther to go, so it shouldn't be a big deal. Third mistake.

After talking with those guys for a few minutes they inform us that we are about a third of the way done with the trail. I figured that since we had already come pretty far uphill, the rest of the trail couldn't be too bad. Brett offers for us to turn around and go back the way we came, and I told him no. I wanted to do the whole trail. Fourth mistake.

Once we got going again there was another uphill section that really wasn't too bad, but I still had to push my bike up. Then we hit a nice spot that was downhill or flat for probably a mile or so. I remember thinking to myself: "if the rest of the ride is going to be this good, I'll be fine". Fifth mistake.

From there it was basically up hill the rest of the way. Then, to make matters worse the trails were all washed out, and it made it even harder trying to balance your bike in the skinny ruts. I couldn't stay on my bike for more that two minutes at a time, then I would have to get off and push it up another hill. My legs were sore from riding and walking, and my arms were sore from pushing the bike. It seemed like we had been going forever. By this time Brett had already traded camel packs with me so that I could have his water. It's things like this that make him so easy to love. Have I mentioned that he is my favorite?

We finally see a sign that says there is only three and a half miles left on the trail, and I was so relieved. Three and a half more miles, and I would be in the air conditioned car, on my way home. Not the case. From that point it was actually more like five more miles. Getting my hopes up when I saw that sign was my sixth mistake.

There was one point in the short downhill part of the trail that I panicked, because the hill looked more steep than it really was, and laid my bike down. I was crying because it scared me so bad. Then there was the part where I fell because the rut I was pedaling through was so deep that I hit my pedal on a rock, twisted my ankle, and hit my knee on another rock.

By the time we got back to the car we were both sunburned and exhausted. We had been on the trail for just over three hours, and we have no clue how far we actually went, because I am an idiot and forgot to bring my GPS. Seventh mistake.

There was a brief moment where I was actually having fun, and the rest of it was pure hell. Brett felt so guilty! For the rest of the day he kept apologizing, and did everything he could to make up for the situation, even though it wasn't his fault. I love him, but I will never go on that particular bike ride with him again. Ever. I still can't figure out how in the hell we started at one point, and got back to that same point by going up hill almost ninety percent of the time. It makes no sense to me.

Needless to say, we didn't make it to the park with the dogs. We went home, ate a pizza, took a nap, and then woke up and I had some Oreo's and milk while Brett had chips and salsa. By that point it was almost bed time.

This morning, I feel like I got run over by a truck. Every muscle in my body aches.