Riding (briefly) with one leg

In January, 2009, I went to visit my brother in Colorado. Together, we went up to ski with Tom, who was working at Vail for that season. Although the trip was a lot of fun, the skiing wasn't that great, at least not by Colorado standards -- the snow was crusty and old -- and it didn't snow at all during our visit.

Even if my memories of skiing itself aren't that great, there was one incredible sight that I doubt I'll ever forget: A guy absolutely shredding a steep, mogul run that dropped in a near-straight line down the side of a deep canyon. Adaptive skiing is always impressive, whether you see athletes in "sitskis," or blind skiers descending the mountain with a guide, it's always inspiring. But this guy, who I only saw briefly from the chair lift, wasn't using any kind of adaptive equipment, he was just using one regular ski, and two regular poles; the vacant leg of his ski pants rolled up to his hip.

We first saw him evaluating his line from the top of the gulch, then, he launched down, driving his board between the moguls with a fluidity that I will never achieve, no matter how many hours I spend working at it. In fact, I basically gave up on skiing right then.

But, that's not the point. I was thinking about that guy today, because of something Tom said after watching his run: "His leg must be so fucking strong!" Yup. Thinking skiing with two legs is hard, just think about the challenge of doing the same thing with half the muscle.

Today, on what was otherwise an awesome day of riding with the South Mountain Cycles extended family (extended, because I was there!) to White Clay Creek State Park in Newark, Delaware, the non-drive crank fell off my test bike, leaving me to pedal the last couple miles with just my right leg. While interesting, the experience is not one that I'm eager to repeat.

In addition to the obvious problem (that's a lot of work for one leg!), I also found that going down any kind of grade was challenging without being able to level off the pedals. Fortunately, everyone was kind to me in my moment of need, and didn't leave me out in the woods to die, despite the fact that my pace dropped from "reasonable" to "glacial." Now, hours later, my right leg is much more sore than usual, and sore in all kinds of new and exciting ways. And, that was only after a few miles.

I'm going to have to double up on the single-leg drills for my left leg this week, just to balance things out. The whole experience, though, made me realize how lucky I am to have an intact, mostly-functional body, so that my one-legged jaunt was a curiosity, rather than a permanent condition.

In other news; White Clay is a sweet place to ride, especially if, like me, you lake technical mountain bike skillz, but enjoy long rides off road.