The Gain from Pain Makes Me Smile Insane

Now for those of you who haven’t read my awesome profile, you may be surprised to know I am an AVID mountain biker. I often race Harleys and Kawasakis because I am THAT extreme. Last night, while God was pissing on NYC I decided to take a bike ride through the local park, some people might know it, Forest Park. It’s a nice big park, home to concerts, skateboarders, and homeless. It’s got a path lined with thick woods, for pedestrian runners, bladers, and riders.

I started out fine, trekking up the steep hill, making it to the top in near Armstrongian time. I turned right into the entrance of this pedestrian path, noticing immediately it would be a quiet, meditative ride. With no one on the road, less a couple runners, I was speeding quickly as the rain fell at a constant and heavy rate-I mean who lets the rain stop them from living right?-perhaps those that live in the Amazon.

Anyway, I rode down this serene path for about fifteen minutes, getting completely saturated and WET-oh yea ladies!!!–I come to a patch of woods that is much thinner, almost anorexic, compared to the rest of the Queens version of Sherwood Forest. I decide, “hey Chris, that’s enough for today, take that short cut through the woods, the street’s right there, just do it, Nike’d be proud.” I do it. I take the dirt path that veers off into this section of woods, I see basketball courts just past the last tree, I figure piece of cake. The dead and dried up spines from the trees cover the ground and little logs and overgrown twigs. It’s a mountain bike though, so I beaassst over it all. I get to another dip in the dirt right before the courts. PAUSE.

At the end is a concrete ledge that drops off onto the grass surrounding, rather framing, the red, white and blue basketball court-it seems my neighborhood is more patriotic than I would’ve first guessed. I see no fence blocking my route and the ledge appears to be pretty low. “Fuck it, you only live twice.” I was already on the decline so I grabbed the brakes to keep the bike steady, hopped on, and slowly released. My slow creeping turned into a quicker rolling down. Will it be enough? I hit the ledge, gripped the handlebar tight, pulled up as hard and quick as I could, but like the ending to Shutter Island, it wasn’t enough. I was off the ledge. I was coming down too soon. PANIC.

My front tire hit the ground harshly and immediately stopped the momentum from the last decline. I flipped over the handlebars, landed on a combo of right shoulder, cranium, and ribs. The pain in my shoulder was immediately excruciating but years of hockey and other full contact activities conditioned me to be a tough guy, allowing myself to only wince at the shooting, throbbing, injury. I was in no hurry; I just lied there hoping the rain would somehow ease, what I imagined Christ felt like during his passion fruit.

Composing myself and diving into my inner monk, I picked up my bike and went on my way, hitting as little bumps and curbs as possible. I got home, still soaked from the Divine Piss, thinking “ah its all better now, I’ll lie down and let the smoke from a joint soothe my battle wound. Took me thirty minutes to peel off my shirt and shorts, and another ten to put on dry clothing-didn’t even bother with a towel.

I’m sitting at work, disguising my pain so I can use the excuse next week. But while chipping away at the monotony that occurs at a 9-5 office job, I discovered, I kind of like the pain. I enjoy it. Sure it hurts, sure I better make sure a friend is present when I take a crap, but I still smile when it hurts. My thinking is every and any experience is a good experience. It’s all relative to the life you live or want to live. If you take the risk, you fail, you despise yourself for taking that risk, thinking, “why do I torture my mind, body, and soul? What the fuck was I thinking?” I say, fuck it, live and learn then get hugs. You learn to take risks, learn to embrace those risks, love those risks, be one with those risks. At the end of the day all we have is our humanity, maybe some beers and weed, but what is it to be human without curiosity? What is it to be curious without taking the risk to know? While I wallow in my pain, thinking how I could’ve hit the ledge better, maybe faster, I do not regret it happening. Ok, so I’ll have to go leftie when I wanna pleasure my Jameson, but a small price to pay for the experience.

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~ by guyhamburger on August 4, 2011.

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