Page 53 of Shared By the Mountain Men

“Your ankle?” Ash asked.

I glanced down at my foot. Noah had freshly wrapped the ankle last night.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Good enough to bike.”

I waited for him to doubt me, to lecture me about how I was supposed to stay off it, but he only nodded and pulled down the visor of his helmet, obscuring his face.

“Follow me. Try to keep pace. No faster, no slower.”

He led me over to the starting point of three different trails. Two of them tipped downward at a terrifyingly steep angle, while another trail peacefully cut across the mountain sideways. That’s the one he took. It was an easy pace, one I could follow without much effort. And the trail wasn’t very technical; the only difficult parts were when the trail abruptly made a switchback turn, and even then all I had to do was slow down a little bit. Ash glanced over his shoulder every so often, checking to make sure I was still with him.

Despite our gentle pace, biking down the mountain was exhilarating! All the biking I’d done around town had been mostly flat, and at a crawling speed. Compared to that, this was like riding on a bullet train.

I was able to follow a few yards behind Ash the whole time. When we reached the bottom, he raised his visor and looked at me. “Good?”

“So good!” I replied.

He nodded, then guided me back into the ski lift line. We rode the lift back up to the same spot, and then walked our bikes to the same trail as before.

“You first this time.”

Following was easy because I didn’t really need to think; I just had to imitate everything Ash did. Leading was harder. Even though I knew I was going about the same speed as the first run, it felt like I was speeding out of control. Like I would fly off the mountain if I lost focus for a split second.

At one of the switchbacks, I glanced behind me. Ash held out a hand to tell me to stop, so I hit the brakes.

Stopping next to me, Ash said, “Don’t ride with fear. You’re fine.”

“I know,” I replied, “but I keep thinking—”

“Stop thinking,” he snapped. “Use your gut. Not your head.”

I wanted to tell him that my gut didn’t have any experience on a mountain bike, but it was easier to just nod.

As we continued, I slowly did what Ash had instructed. I got out of my head and rode by feel. Allowing the steepness of the route to control my speed rather than constantly applying the brakes. Soon, I understood what Ash meant. The trail was designed to speed you up in parts, and slow you down in other parts. I didn’t need to be in as much control because thetrailwas in control.

Once I did that, the rest of the run was easy. I flew along the path, whirled around corners, and even went off a tiny little ramp. I probably only came an inch off the ground, but it felt like I hung in the airforever.

I was grinning when we reached the bottom. And when Ash caught up to me and raised his visor, he was smiling, too. It was the first time I had seen that expression on his face, I realized. It softened all of his other intimidating features.

“Good job,” he said.

“How about a tougher run this time?”

Ash considered me for three long seconds. “Don’t tell Noah.”

I broke out in a new grin. “Deal.”

As we got back on the ski lift, I felt so much more comfortable than I had this morning. Noah was right: Ash wasn’t as intimidating as his appearance seemed. Sure, he was quiet, but the longer I was around him the more natural his silence felt. Itfithim.

“What’s RAGBRAI?” I felt courageous enough to ask.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“The bike you loaned me has a bunch of participation bands on it for something called RAGBRAI. It looks like a race you do every year?”

Ash looked uncomfortable with the question. “Not a race. A ride, in Iowa.”

“What’s the difference?”

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