Riding on a Winter’s Day
DonDiego Rains
I love riding in winter. The trails are empty, and my ears focus on the steady click of my cassette as I pedal over the cold ground. Moments like these are serene, my tires leave almost no mark on the firm ground as I glide down the path. A thin layer of snow has dusted the mountainside, blanketing the ground where the plants shelter from the sun. The sun warms the trail faster, leaving its clear path in the dirt, highlighted on both sides by snow and lifeless yellowed grass, but shadowed by the still deep green pine needles overhead. My friends tell me about how the deadness of the world makes them want to shelter inside, wrapped in a blanket and sipping a warm cup of coffee, safe from the cold. But somehow, the deadness of the world makes it feel alive. I’m focused not on the noise of summer, the cicadas, the people, the heat causing rocks to crackle, but instead, the world’s touch. The cool air gently pricking my face as it brushes my cheek and awakens my body. The gentle noise, as the world whispers into my ears, not drowned out by the cheers of my friends.
As these thoughts echo through my head, I realize that an hour has gone by as I climbed this old, pothole-ridden dirt road, and now I’m at the trail I came for. It’s perfect, the snow emphasizing the shadows cast by large rocks on either side, the banked corners, carved out by the summer riders but left to pack in and become firm through fall. And even better, it starts by climbing another 300 feet, but this time, I can truly enjoy in person the moments I waited for and thought about as I climbed. But my enjoyment is quieter in my head now. I’m at peace, as I pedal with only thoughts of the ride in my head. I let the bike guide me, feeling every detail of the dirt as I lean to turn.
Now, I can enjoy the true thoughtlessness that makes my favorite part of the trail, the descent. I stand up, lean forward, crank the pedals twice as I release the brakes, and let gravity and instinct take over. It’s now less of a grind and more of a dance, as I watch the trail ahead, snapping the bike from side to side to go around rocks, over jumps, and rip through corners. Every corner I catch sends me faster into the next one, as I’ve learned to use the bikes momentum and the carved turns to fly. I’m so close to falling, so close to hurtling into a tree or a rock at speeds that could destroy my body and leave me alone to die in the cold, that I can’t think about anything, releasing my brain and trusting only my body. I brake into a turn, leaning low and wide to come out of a jump, landing and tossing up a small mixture of snow and dirt where I land. It’s perfect, but it has to end eventually. Five minutes of downhill, and I find myself back where I started. I slam the back brake first, forcing my wheel to skid and launch dirt from my tires. I notice how cold my face has gotten as my breath turns to vapor in the air, my skin frozen by the cold air and ripping wind as I flew. A single leaf left from Fall crunches underfoot as I lean to one side, panting from effort, feeling nothing aside just… alive. As the noise clears from my ears however, I suddenly notice the quietness of the Earth, and the first thought crosses my mind as I reach for my water. The cold, quiet, deadness gives the world a privacy that makes me feel alive.
As these thoughts echo through my head, I realize that an hour has gone by as I climbed this old, pothole-ridden dirt road, and now I’m at the trail I came for. It’s perfect, the snow emphasizing the shadows cast by large rocks on either side, the banked corners, carved out by the summer riders but left to pack in and become firm through fall. And even better, it starts by climbing another 300 feet, but this time, I can truly enjoy in person the moments I waited for and thought about as I climbed. But my enjoyment is quieter in my head now. I’m at peace, as I pedal with only thoughts of the ride in my head. I let the bike guide me, feeling every detail of the dirt as I lean to turn.
Now, I can enjoy the true thoughtlessness that makes my favorite part of the trail, the descent. I stand up, lean forward, crank the pedals twice as I release the brakes, and let gravity and instinct take over. It’s now less of a grind and more of a dance, as I watch the trail ahead, snapping the bike from side to side to go around rocks, over jumps, and rip through corners. Every corner I catch sends me faster into the next one, as I’ve learned to use the bikes momentum and the carved turns to fly. I’m so close to falling, so close to hurtling into a tree or a rock at speeds that could destroy my body and leave me alone to die in the cold, that I can’t think about anything, releasing my brain and trusting only my body. I brake into a turn, leaning low and wide to come out of a jump, landing and tossing up a small mixture of snow and dirt where I land. It’s perfect, but it has to end eventually. Five minutes of downhill, and I find myself back where I started. I slam the back brake first, forcing my wheel to skid and launch dirt from my tires. I notice how cold my face has gotten as my breath turns to vapor in the air, my skin frozen by the cold air and ripping wind as I flew. A single leaf left from Fall crunches underfoot as I lean to one side, panting from effort, feeling nothing aside just… alive. As the noise clears from my ears however, I suddenly notice the quietness of the Earth, and the first thought crosses my mind as I reach for my water. The cold, quiet, deadness gives the world a privacy that makes me feel alive.
DonDiego Rains is a four-year cadet at the Institute. He stands to graduate with both his high school diploma and his Associate’s in Arts, at which point he will go on to study forestry. Outside of that, he is an avid mountain biker and outdoorsman.