One thing I was most happy doing in my childhood was riding my bike. When I was 8 years old my parents let me ride my bike just about everywhere in our neighborhood. I mostly went across 7th Avenue to a dirt lot across from a red Catholic Church… which could of been dangerous in itself. I spent hours riding my bike in these makeshift dirt hills that rolled through an open desert lot. I would go over the small jumps and occasionally jump some larger ones. One day, the big jump got the best of me.
I rode my bike like any other day, and as I was cruising through the dusty mounds I saw the biggest jump over a steep ditch. I was by myself and thought, “I could jump that.” Feeling brave with courage, I backed up on the trail to get enough momentum to clear the abyss. My heart was already racing sitting on my bike, and it felt like I could feel adrenaline pouring like sweat from my body. I stood on my bike pedals, leaned closer into the handle bars and started to push down violently towards the ground. I approached the jump and soon lifted off the ground. It felt like slow motion as I glided through the air and in my mind I was thinking, “I’m going to clear this.” I maintained control over my bike and as I approached the end of the jump my front tire cleared the ditch but my rear tire got caught slightly in a root sticking out of the ditch. It was enough to catch my tire.
All the momentum of my bike stopped, but my body didn’t. I continued flying and flipping forward. I felt my rib cage get crushed by the handle bars and soon I could feel the rocks digging into my face and knee caps. I created a nice dust plume, and laid in my miserable pain. All at once the cloud of desert settled, I could feel breath filling my lungs again and the warm blood streaming down my legs.
I jumped back on my bike and limpingly rode it back to the 6th drive house. I walked into the house, and went straight to my bedroom where I fell asleep. I woke up to sore knees, ribs, and bruised face. I went to the restroom to clean off some of the blood and dirt. I dusted my hair and I felt this overwhelmingly euphoric sensation of pain but contentment. I had tried something that caused me so much pain, but despite all the hurt it gave me a great deal of satisfaction and accomplishment knowing I gave it a shot. And the next time, I knew I would make the jump.
2 Replies to ““… I knew I would make the jump.””
And you did. You made that jump and many more after.
I appreciate your blog, hope all is well with you and your family. I have missed seeing your posts the past couple of months. It’s hard to explain how you have inspired me on my own doctoral journey. I have finished data collection after a lot of obstacles, some of my own making, and am currently writing the implications section of my dissertation. My survey used two validated instruments to measure collectivism and learner autonomy and tried to find correlations in a sample of Native college students taking online courses. No significance found in the study, but it has been an interesting journey.