Alarm went off and sounded like a bazooka had gone off. Jumped out of bed and made myself a cup of tea. All for a cause I reminded myself. Had made myself a promise that health would take the front seat this year. So made plans to get on my Trek 4300D and hit the dirt trail and do skids on gravel with great body balance and in the process gain a wiry and lithe figure that would be the envy of one and all. Hit the road with the bike and started panting almost immediately. Cursed the dogs that were sleeping peacefully in the middle of the road and some of them dutiful gave me a welcome growl. I realized in quick time that I had little to no stamina and had a lot to do, to be a Lance Armstrong. Well, I thought...not bad for a start. At least I was on the road. I pedaled madly through the streets of Bangalore towards the dirt patch I had in mind. After furiously biking in morning office traffic I reached the place. By then, time was already 8.30am and Bangalore was teeming with a zillion cars and wannabe Travis pastrana's all attempting to take up whatever real estate that was available.
Oh...the dirt patch had arrived and I was there to do trail biking and reminded myself that I the rock star could do wonders. Almost immediately..I had a nasty fall. The front slipped...I was reminded of stoner’s fall in one of the motogp races last year. I gamely carried on with the practice and this time the back slipped. Was reminded of Pedrosa’s crash the year before last. It didn’t take too long for the front to slip again. My time at the dirt patch was spent playing Stoner and Pedrosa. The only difference was that they were two different individuals and crashed only once each day while I looked like Fidel Castro after an hour of practice. Stopped practice for good and returned home gingerly riding the bike as most body parts were acting up.
Debating whether having four tires under my bum is the only way to achieve body balance…
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