The thrill of the trails.

Trails have minds of their own.  They are truly the ones in control.  All the constructive devices that are set to control you while careening through the scree and brush mean nothing when the trail decides you've had a good run, and it is your turn to feel its true nature.

When the first accident happens, and you fly off your bike and into the scree, scraping your knees, legs, and hands (thank goodness for gloves), slamming your shoulder into the tough ground, you quickly realize that all the caution in the world means nothing when you are at the mercy of the trail.  The trail is the god here.  The trail is what determines your will.  The trail is what makes your bike nothing more than the vehicle upon which you will crash.

Against significant odds, the question becomes, "Why do it?"  Because the god taunts you when you lie bleeding.  The trail is a challenge.  It provides the thrill, the danger.  Because eventually, the trail can be ridden.  The trail can respect your ability.  The trail sees your desire and thirst to ride its treacherous body of work.

And that is why we do it.  We do it because the trail demands your attention.  The trail sees your thrill, and says, "bring it on!"

Another day, I will see Rattlesnake Gulch on equal footing, and I will gain the trails respect.  The thrill of it will drive me down its steep slope again, and I will make it, even if I have to add more scars.

It is the thrill that drives us down the trails.