Uphill Battle

I'm being ironic.

Like the wiener dog, my natural enemy is a steep incline.*  Even when I was in fighting shape, there’s nothing I looked forward to less than a jaunt up a hill (besides perhaps 10 jaunts up a hill).  Fortunately for me, Memphis isn’t terribly mountainous.  But I’ve gotta say, there’s something magical about being on my bike and powering up a sharp hill that makes me feel really alive.  It’s the duality of Jen. 

Overcoming the odds is a beautiful thing, but I’ve had a lesson or two in patting myself on the back for defying my low center of gravity.  Yesterday I was wandering through the lobby on my way to my regular 3pm coffee break, when I spotted a guy in a wheelchair gazing at the Master Plan map hanging on the wall.  I asked him if he had any questions.

“Oh, I was just looking at the trails.”

I gave him my standard paved trail speech about the beauty of the Chickasaw and Patriot Lake Trails. He smiled at me and put his finger on top of the map and drug it across the wild, wooded Lucius Burch Natural Area and down the dirt paths of the Wolf River Trails. 

“And how about these?”

“Well, I ride my bike on those trails, except in the Natural Area.  Hiking only in there.  Those trails are…not paved….and kind of challenging. But the Patriot Lake trail is so nice and….”

“How far is it from here to here?”   He thumped the map in two places on the White Trail in the woods. 

I told him it was probably a mile. 

“I fell twice, but I made it all the way there, and down to the Wolf River.  I had to crawl over a downed tree and lift my chair.  I was dead tired.”

After I picked my chin up off the floor, I found out that he was a champion off-road wheelchair competitor in his youth, and is still active on our trails.  He has knobby tires and other accessories for his chair.  He loves the outdoors, and he loves to prove himself wrong—especially when he thinks a trail is too difficult for him.  We chatted for a few minutes about the trails, and we shared riding adventures—his were interesting stories about riding in Honolulu, mine were mostly disgusting descriptions of bruises and poison ivy.  As we parted ways, I told him I hoped he would be careful.

“Sounds like you fall a lot more than I do,” he said.

Touché.

And I’m usually falling uphill. 



*Also like the wiener dog, I’m not a strong swimmer and I once wore a duck suit for Halloween.  True story.  But the comparisons end there!