THUMP-bump! THUMP-bump! THUMP-bump! THUMP-bump!
My highly-elevated heart-rate pounded vehemently in my head, my temples throbbing and my eyes stinging from being popped so wide, wide open as they fixated on the razor-sharp tip of a broken branch that stopped just two inches away from plunging through my chest and into my heart.
My fists gripped my brake levers with every ounce of strength I could forge as I stood hunched over my handlebars, frozen in time for who knows how long, unable to breathe.
My fragile childhood psyche always turned away from gruesome bloody scenes in movies and on TV, yet, for that brief but eternal moment, I could envision that spear of nature thrusting through my ribcage with blood exploding everywhere as I watched, seemingly unattached.
I finally exhaled, my breath charging out of my lungs much like it would have had that spear landed on target. The thump-bump subsided and my eyes closed as my body nearly went completely limp — my fists releasing the brakes and my knees buckling a bit.
I rolled my mountain bike back a foot or so, and collapsed onto my handlebars completely certain in a frighteningly confident manner that I was two inches from the end.
Again, my mind raced with images of what could have been. Me struggling to pull myself off the hefty three-inch in diameter branch, then falling to the pine needle covered trail to watch my life drain out of my chest and pool around me.
Even if the initial dagger didn’t finish me off, certainly being alone deep in the forest would eventually prove fatal. Who knows when I’d be found?
Seriously, what was I thinking?
A major weekend storm blew through the Holston River Valley and knocked down a couple of hundred trees in Panther Creek State Park. In the forest, of course, whether or not anyone hears a tree fall is irrelevant because a tree never falls alone. As one falls it brings others along with it like dominoes.
The ride began with a few robust limbs scattered across the trail as an early warning system. Irritating yes, but not defeating. Deeper into the forest the devastation intensified.
In a stretch of about 40 yards I lifted my bike as I climbed, ducked and weaved through 12 downed trees. The ravages of the storm piqued my curiosity as I pushed onward like flipping pages of an exciting book searching for its climax.
The ruins let up a bit, and I hit a cleared, rideable section of the trail. I sailed around a sharp corner to find a short, steep descent awaiting with a tree obliterating the trail at the bottom.
As I rounded the corner I worked to get my body and bike back to an upright position and began braking. That’s when my attention focused solely on the broken crag looking like an ancient spear facing me in a joust. The only thing missing was the Black Knight.
Instead of panic, my thoughts slowed. I can’t lock up my brakes ’cause I’ll slide right uncontrollably smack dab into it. I have to feather the brakes as much as I can and hope for the best.
I managed to stop the bike, but as I quickly unclipped my cleats, my momentum catapulted me off my saddle to land on both feet and lunge forward to my brush with death.
Again, I have no idea how long I stood there. I just know the myriad of thoughts that raced through my head.
I came to Panther Creek and ignored the distractions because it had become my cathedral where I replenished my soul. The weekend storms shutout any riding and I needed a fix.
Having moved on from the would be crime scene, I climbed to the edge of the ridge overlooking the Holston River, where I dismounted and sat on a rock while I made a valiant yet unsuccessful attempt at mediation to calm myself.
On this day my mind raced restlessly when I closed my eyes, replaying my fortuitous encounter over and over.
Defeated I opened my eyes, and watched the colorful Autumn leaves falling all around me, yellow, orange and gold, dancing left, right, up, down, down, down, up, right, and left as they softly landed.
That’s life, I thought to myself, each turn sends me into a fresh direction. Every decision I make alters my course. Where will I eventually land? Who knows? We never know where the journey will take us, but we must embark on it.
Time to ride.
