Riding a bike is the one thing in my life that I know that I can do better than anyone else, whether it’s competition, stunts or even breaking bones – I don’t break bones very often, but when I do, I break them properly! For example, it was a gloomy, English afternoon down the track, when my friend asked me: “I bet that you can’t bar spin over the 10 footer.” Being one to never decline a bet, I foolishly accepted. Psyching myself up, with everybody egging me on, “you can do it man, come on!” I set off towards the jump. My legs, jelly; my brain screaming inside my head. Thoughts flashing through my head like a photo album sped up, pictures of my family, school, my bike. I was suddenly awoken by the sight of the ground rushing beneath me, adrenaline pumping and the realisation and joy that I could actually make it. But then it happened. My front wheel caught the side of the landing and I was tossed forward like a cucumber in a blender. My brain was full of emotions, feelings of letting myself down and never being respected again collided in my head. The voices of the crowd full of “oooohs” and “aaaaahs.” Then the slow motion kicked in, and I fell, for what seemed like an eternity, before I hit the ground and rolled to the feet of the on looking crowd, then it all went black.
The all too familiar, sterile smell of the Accident & Emergency ward, bringing me back from the blissful limbo and pushing me back into the realms of consciousness with the added benefits of: one arm broken in three places, one broken leg and five stitches on my chin. Pain gripping me like a rusty vice; guilt skulking to the fornt of my mind as I realise that I’ve just dragged my parents to the A & E ward for four hours. But soon, my mountain bike rides to the front of my mind and begins to consume my thoughts once again. Altogether I wasn’t too pleased with my performance at the track, but I would do it again.
There are up sides to my bike, such as shows and competitions. I love doing shows, because as they’re invitational, it gives a great sense of respect and knowing that people admire me for what I do and what I am is really inspiring. With everybody watching me and wondering how I do it, it gives me an overwhelming sense of wellbeing and achievement. Also, I really enjoy performing in competitions, on the starting grid when I try and convince myself that I’m calm and collected, when my insides are really turning inside out with fear and I’m quivering like a hamster on a winter’s evening. The speed, the thrill and the fact that I actually have a chance of winning. But the best bit of all is the look on my opponent’s face when I actually beat them, which makes all of the hours in hospital worthwhile.
Lunch consists of a salad and baked potato or a sandwich all provided by my mother. She is the one person that doesn’t believe in me and my bike, she thinks that all it’s doing is causing more and more injuries and it’ll send me to an early grave. But, deep in my heart I know that she is right. My mum is the one that provides all of the routine things: like food, getting me up in the morning and all of the other dull chores, but if she didn’t do them then there would be stacks of dirty laundry taking over the house, I don’t know where I would be without my mum- probably still asleep!
My dream in life is to become a doctor, I know it will be difficult – and even harder if I do not stop my competitive riding – but I know that I have the potential to become one. The hardest part will be the responsibility, knowing that somebody’s life is in my hands, I also think that I judge people too often which is, apparently, one of the worse things a doctor can do. I love mountain biking but, as my mum always says: “Time to start thinking about a “real” career.”
Homework is the next big hurdle of the day and usually contains at least one piece of extended writing. My favourite lessons are English, Biology and French. I decided to do triple science at GCSE because I thought that I was good at it, but there are some robots in my class, that seem to have an infinite database of pointless scientific knowledge ready at the click of a button and when they’re talking about “hydroflourocarbons”, I switch off and think about the weekend.
At 11 o’clock it’s off to bed for some well-deserved rest and a chance to heal the scars of the day, all ready for tomorrow when the cycle begins, all, over, again.
