I am such a baby.
When I was a kid, I was pretty much the last one picked for kickball, got my ass kicked at tetherball, and even though I towered over EVERYONE, I sucked at basketball. Such humiliation tends to stay permanently imprinted on one's brain.
And yet, I try to exorcise.
Tommy is BIG into dirtbikes so when he bought his Yamaha, the Honda became "mine." I want to be tough, really I do, but it is so hard adopting a hobby where you know you're going to fall down...probably while going at a decent speed. Oh and I have no idea how to drive a stickshift and apparently that hinders me as well.
And yet, I try. I've taken the bike out three times. The first was very basic, just back and forth once I got the beast kick started and moving (2 things I tend to have trouble with). The second time I gave myself quite the pep talk and told myself I was going to fall and it would hurt but it wouldn't kill me and it'd be fun overall. Sure enough, I fell, it hurt, but it didn't kill me and I had fun.
Well, time flies - 8 months to be exact, and we went out on Saturday for my third try. It was like it was my first but I got the hang of it after numerous starts and stalls and here are pics to document it. I didn't fall but I was way too hot and tired to push myself to even attempt to do anything that would warrant falling. (Excuses, excuses: I tried to give blood that morning and they rejected me because my hemoglobin count was so low - hence me being beat before I even got out there.) Plus I was just plain scared - which is so stupid. Carpe diem, dammit!
But check out this pic (and others on flickr - I've got the red bike, Tommy's got the blue). It really looks like I can ride, doesn't it?
I'm getting there. Next time I will not be such a baby.
I will not be such a baby.
I will not be such a baby.
Carpe diem, dammit!
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