Two feet

So, the weekend's attempt at doing my mountain bike leadership course didn't go so well.  Which is a shame because I was committed to it and had put a lot of behind the scenes work in.  I'd worked hard on making sure my log book was complete and not a work of fiction, I'd funded my two day outdoor first aid course and taken leave from work to do it, I'd read the paperwork, I'd had the bike into the bike shop to try to make sure it was roadworthy before the course, I'd paid out for the course and accommodation.  And I jibbed after day one.  For reasons both logical and emotional.  And that's enough of that.

I did, however use the Sunday to attempt to lose some of my feeling of inadequacy, the sinking realisation that I have no place on a bike due to reasons of slowness and shit skills.  And it went rather well.  Whinlatter's red run is within my ability level; there's no problem with the ascents, the roots, the drop offs.  There is a problem with the downhill sharp gravelly berms but nothing that can't be overcome by a dignified get off and walk position on the matter.  And I know it is a horrible gloating bad thing which puts me into a really bad light, but at the end of the day, I am grateful to the two fellas going up the fire road who were slow enough that I not just could overtake but really had to overtake to avoid the holdup.

And I've been brave, and had the difficult conversation on the phone with the man who ran the course, and I've provided feedback to the folk who ultimately have responsibility for the course, and have been offered a couple of options to do the second day in a less intimidating group of people.  I'll think about it.

And today my internal song is sisters are doing it for themselves. Standing on their own two feet ...