Today Levi and I rode mountain bikes at arguably the best place to ride in the west. Gooseberry Mesa. I have gone mountain biking a whopping 0 times in my entire life. While Levi shredded, I got the poop beaten out of me. By rocks. Big rocks. Will I ever ride again? Sure. Tomorrow? No.
I have a newfound respect for mountain bikers and despite getting hit in the junk by the bike frame, was able to enjoy the elusive split second moment of sheer freedom in the form of racing downhill at night using headlamps for guidance. Was it fun? Yes. Was it worth it? Definitely.