Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Do you know how to ride a bike?
Normally I would answer this question with a definite "yes," but after this morning I'm not so sure. I guess I would have to modify my answer with a qualifier: "Yes, I can ride a bike, on flat surfaces." And if you asked me, "Can you mountain bike?" I would have to answer, "I can ride a mountain bike on a flat surface, but no, I cannot mountain bike."
Most of my friends probably already know that I am no cyclist, and they would probably laugh and ask me why in the world I thought I could go on a 4-hour, 25km bike tour in the first place. I don't really know why I thought I could, especially having realized that the city of San Cristóbal de Las Casas is nestled high in the mountains of Chiapas. I suppose I imagined the trail to be flat, so obviously I wasn't thinking.
The only times I've gone on bike trips before were with my friend Tammy back in high school and with my roomies back in college. Tammy and I had decided it would be a great idea to bike the road through the Sahuaro National Monument on the east side of Tucson. It was not such a good idea for me after all, because I couldn't ride up the numerous hills and had to walk my bike up all of them. I think I got a flat tire as well. During a summer in our college town, my roommates and I took a weekend vacation to Cape Cod, where Julia Oliver's cousin had a house. We rode bikes to the beaches, but of course that was all flat, and we didn't go very far.
It all sounded like a great idea: a bike tour of the indigenous villages and nature around San Cristóbal. It seemed a better idea than taking a horseback tour, since I've never been on a horse and because it's a long way down from atop a horse's back. Julia seemed to think I could handle it, so I guess I wasn't being incredibly stupid by assuming I'd be OK on the bike tour.
We got to the bike place and got ready for the trip. We got our helmets on and tried out the seat height on our bikes. Things were already not going well, because Julia and I had just had our first fight of the trip, arguing about how to get to the bike place. We were late because I had taken a wrong turn. Also, as soon as the bike people let us in, they remarked about my sandals being the worst shoes possible for cycling. I had forgotten to pack my sneakers, so that I was all I had to wear. Then I was trying out the seat height, and the guy was holding the handlebars, and when I was getting off, my shoe got caught and I fell off the bike and scraped my knee. I fell off the bike and we weren't even going anywhere. You can see where this story is going.
I got another lecture about how my shoes were the absolutely wrong type for this trip. I was getting cheeky and wanted to say, "Well what do you want me to do about it? These are all I have, so if you want to help me out then give me a proper pair of shoes." But I didn't. We set out, the Swiss guide and two German speaking cyclists and Julia and me, all in a line, weaving through the narrow San Cristóbal streets and traffic. We took dirt alleys that seemed always to be going uphill. I was getting out of breath, and we weren't even out of the city yet. On one dirt hill, I couldn't change gears properly and the chain slipped off. I thought I could just slip it back on, but then when I tried to ride up again, of course, I broke the chain.
The Swiss guide came down asking, "You broke the chain?" I said, "Yes." "Oh, Girl!" she said, rather exasperated. She took out her tools and fixed the chain, giving me a lecture about changing gears softly and slowly. Of course I needed this lecture, because obviously I do NOT know how to ride a bike up an unpaved hill.
More uphill riding for a while, and I tried to recover from the embarrassment of having broken my chain already (though I would like to say that the chain broke on me, all of its own accord). I was clearly the cycling dunce of the group, but I was psyching myself up by repeating in my head, "I can do this. I will not break the chain again. I will go up the hills without falling," and I was ready to give it my best. After the uphill going, however, I got really out of breath. We passed the periférico (the ring highway around the city) and there was this long dirt road stretching out in front of us, uphill of course, and I just couldn't go any further. Julia hung back to check if I was OK. I was pedalling half-assed and said, "I don't think I can do this anymore." She comforted me by saying that the trip was indeed difficult, with so much uphill riding, and that they were all going pretty fast. We caught up with the others (only because they had stopped completely), and I said I couldn't go any further. "This is just the beginning of the uphill riding!" the guide said, pointing out the very apparent fact that I was out of shape. I replied, "Obviously I can't go any further. I'm just not a cyclist."
She gave me a map and directions to get back to the city and the bike place, and I mustered up some cheer to say goodbye-have-fun to Julia and the German-speaking cyclists. It was easy enough, but I had to go uphill a little on the periférico, and I could hardly make it, huffing and puffing like an idiot. Everything else was frighteningly downhill from there, into the city. I probably wore out the breaks because I was sure I'd slide and crash into a parked car. My hands ached from gripping the handlebars, and my tailbone was sore from the seat, so I knew I'd made the right decision not to continue this self-torture for over three more hours.
When I got back to the bike place, the guy there didn't look surprised. Lucky for me, he didn't ask me any questions besides, "Did you leave anything here?" I walked back feeling exhausted and completely demoralized. It took effort not to just fall onto the hotel bed sobbing at the humiliation I had just experienced. I pulled myself together, reminding myself about that thing I read about how depressives think about setbacks, that they think every setback is permanent and pervasive. I had to tell myself repeatedly, this only means I couldn't go mountain biking, and that's OK. In the past I probably would've kicked myself for being so stupid as to think that I could cycle several kilometers uphill. But I think I did pretty well, considering the circumstances. I retreated with some dignity, accepting my limits.
So I came back and did some yoga, a longer practice than I have done in a very long time, because it is something I can do and because it's all about accepting one's limits. I think I should stick with gentle yoga and forget about mountain biking.
Anyway, it's too bad this entry is so negative. The rest of the trip has been good. In fact, people keep remarking that Julia and I seem very happy traveling. On the way to the ruins at Teotihuacán outside of Mexico City, the taxi driver said, "What's important is that you are happy." And then near the cabins where we stayed by the ruins at Palenque, a man at a tour tent observed that we were very "felices" and told us to continue being happy.
I also have an entry about Lea's visit to Arandas and Julia's last weekend in Guadalajara, but I couldn't post it, and it's saved on Julia's computer, which of course isn't here with us in Chiapas. I will try to post that as soon as I can, and also to tell more about the rest of our trip, but that might not be for a while. I think I'm going to get an ice cream or something and enjoy the sunshine in this chilly mountain town.
Most of my friends probably already know that I am no cyclist, and they would probably laugh and ask me why in the world I thought I could go on a 4-hour, 25km bike tour in the first place. I don't really know why I thought I could, especially having realized that the city of San Cristóbal de Las Casas is nestled high in the mountains of Chiapas. I suppose I imagined the trail to be flat, so obviously I wasn't thinking.
The only times I've gone on bike trips before were with my friend Tammy back in high school and with my roomies back in college. Tammy and I had decided it would be a great idea to bike the road through the Sahuaro National Monument on the east side of Tucson. It was not such a good idea for me after all, because I couldn't ride up the numerous hills and had to walk my bike up all of them. I think I got a flat tire as well. During a summer in our college town, my roommates and I took a weekend vacation to Cape Cod, where Julia Oliver's cousin had a house. We rode bikes to the beaches, but of course that was all flat, and we didn't go very far.
It all sounded like a great idea: a bike tour of the indigenous villages and nature around San Cristóbal. It seemed a better idea than taking a horseback tour, since I've never been on a horse and because it's a long way down from atop a horse's back. Julia seemed to think I could handle it, so I guess I wasn't being incredibly stupid by assuming I'd be OK on the bike tour.
We got to the bike place and got ready for the trip. We got our helmets on and tried out the seat height on our bikes. Things were already not going well, because Julia and I had just had our first fight of the trip, arguing about how to get to the bike place. We were late because I had taken a wrong turn. Also, as soon as the bike people let us in, they remarked about my sandals being the worst shoes possible for cycling. I had forgotten to pack my sneakers, so that I was all I had to wear. Then I was trying out the seat height, and the guy was holding the handlebars, and when I was getting off, my shoe got caught and I fell off the bike and scraped my knee. I fell off the bike and we weren't even going anywhere. You can see where this story is going.
I got another lecture about how my shoes were the absolutely wrong type for this trip. I was getting cheeky and wanted to say, "Well what do you want me to do about it? These are all I have, so if you want to help me out then give me a proper pair of shoes." But I didn't. We set out, the Swiss guide and two German speaking cyclists and Julia and me, all in a line, weaving through the narrow San Cristóbal streets and traffic. We took dirt alleys that seemed always to be going uphill. I was getting out of breath, and we weren't even out of the city yet. On one dirt hill, I couldn't change gears properly and the chain slipped off. I thought I could just slip it back on, but then when I tried to ride up again, of course, I broke the chain.
The Swiss guide came down asking, "You broke the chain?" I said, "Yes." "Oh, Girl!" she said, rather exasperated. She took out her tools and fixed the chain, giving me a lecture about changing gears softly and slowly. Of course I needed this lecture, because obviously I do NOT know how to ride a bike up an unpaved hill.
More uphill riding for a while, and I tried to recover from the embarrassment of having broken my chain already (though I would like to say that the chain broke on me, all of its own accord). I was clearly the cycling dunce of the group, but I was psyching myself up by repeating in my head, "I can do this. I will not break the chain again. I will go up the hills without falling," and I was ready to give it my best. After the uphill going, however, I got really out of breath. We passed the periférico (the ring highway around the city) and there was this long dirt road stretching out in front of us, uphill of course, and I just couldn't go any further. Julia hung back to check if I was OK. I was pedalling half-assed and said, "I don't think I can do this anymore." She comforted me by saying that the trip was indeed difficult, with so much uphill riding, and that they were all going pretty fast. We caught up with the others (only because they had stopped completely), and I said I couldn't go any further. "This is just the beginning of the uphill riding!" the guide said, pointing out the very apparent fact that I was out of shape. I replied, "Obviously I can't go any further. I'm just not a cyclist."
She gave me a map and directions to get back to the city and the bike place, and I mustered up some cheer to say goodbye-have-fun to Julia and the German-speaking cyclists. It was easy enough, but I had to go uphill a little on the periférico, and I could hardly make it, huffing and puffing like an idiot. Everything else was frighteningly downhill from there, into the city. I probably wore out the breaks because I was sure I'd slide and crash into a parked car. My hands ached from gripping the handlebars, and my tailbone was sore from the seat, so I knew I'd made the right decision not to continue this self-torture for over three more hours.
When I got back to the bike place, the guy there didn't look surprised. Lucky for me, he didn't ask me any questions besides, "Did you leave anything here?" I walked back feeling exhausted and completely demoralized. It took effort not to just fall onto the hotel bed sobbing at the humiliation I had just experienced. I pulled myself together, reminding myself about that thing I read about how depressives think about setbacks, that they think every setback is permanent and pervasive. I had to tell myself repeatedly, this only means I couldn't go mountain biking, and that's OK. In the past I probably would've kicked myself for being so stupid as to think that I could cycle several kilometers uphill. But I think I did pretty well, considering the circumstances. I retreated with some dignity, accepting my limits.
So I came back and did some yoga, a longer practice than I have done in a very long time, because it is something I can do and because it's all about accepting one's limits. I think I should stick with gentle yoga and forget about mountain biking.
Anyway, it's too bad this entry is so negative. The rest of the trip has been good. In fact, people keep remarking that Julia and I seem very happy traveling. On the way to the ruins at Teotihuacán outside of Mexico City, the taxi driver said, "What's important is that you are happy." And then near the cabins where we stayed by the ruins at Palenque, a man at a tour tent observed that we were very "felices" and told us to continue being happy.
I also have an entry about Lea's visit to Arandas and Julia's last weekend in Guadalajara, but I couldn't post it, and it's saved on Julia's computer, which of course isn't here with us in Chiapas. I will try to post that as soon as I can, and also to tell more about the rest of our trip, but that might not be for a while. I think I'm going to get an ice cream or something and enjoy the sunshine in this chilly mountain town.
