There’s been a rock garden at the beginning of our mountain bike track on our home property ever since we built it. It’s always daunted me, especially being right at the very start! I’ve been pretty proud of how I’ve come to face some of my fears along parts of our short track including this rock garden at the beginning. As time has gone on, my progress has gone from bike hiking through the entire length of the rock garden, to riding through the first couple of metres then walking through the next bit, to finally being able to ride most of the rock garden and dabbing my right foot once or twice on the boulder on my right as I squeeze through the narrow gap between the craggy rocks.
I often walk or run along our trail as well. It’s so accessible and I don’t need to go any 
further afield to step into our beautiful Australian bush country! As I’ve traversed the trail over the past few months, I’ve sometimes stopped to look at the rock garden and visualise myself riding through the narrow gaps between the rocks without clunking my pedals. I knew that I would need to develop a lot more skill, line accuracy, confidence and power to ride this section. Basically I’d been riding it so slowly that I didn’t have enough power to get over the craggy rocks. Although I enjoyed my brief little fantasies of riding effortlessly over and around the rocks, I certainly didn’t have much hope that I’d ever actually be able to do it.
Last week I was closely following my husband as we rode the trail. Normally I’m a long way behind and do my own thing. I watched the line that he took through the rock garden and without even thinking about it I probably followed a very similar line, dabbed my foot once on the big boulder on the right, and kept going. I noticed quite a powerful thought come to my mind “Wow that seemed pretty much seamless.” Even though I’d dabbed my foot, it felt smooth and flowy.
A few minutes later as we rode the trail loop again, I was conscious that I was thinking
about something that was upsetting me. I wasn’t very mindful of where I was or what I was doing. Suddenly I realised I’d already ridden through the rock garden! I hadn’t dabbed my foot, I didn’t jab my pedals, and the smooth flowy feeling hit the pit of my stomach and came out of my mouth with a loud shriek, my previous upset forgotten in a moment of elation as I realised what I’d done. I’d accidentally got it right!
OR HAD I? What acknowledgement do I owe MYSELF for the consistent work of practising, the walking it through, the visualisations? How often do I mindlessly disregard something I’ve achieved seeing it as a random event which I’ve had no control over? How would it be if I paused for a moment to celebrate my work and my successes, however small they might seem to another? Would this impact my perception of progress over time and keep my enjoyment and motivation rolling along?
Today as I walk the same trail and peer along the rock garden, I can clearly see the line that I need to take on my bike. The rocks seem so much smaller than before, the gaps between them seem so much wider, and I realise just how powerful the images and thoughts in our minds can be.
Discovering mountain biking as life’s ultimate parallel universe in her middle age, 
Kathryn Walton shares information and reflections in Daisy Spoke that connect, inspire and self-empower women to make healthy choices for themselves.