Falling down. Getting up.

On a regular basis, I purposefully enter the woods to find myself lost. It's a fact, you have to be lost before you can be found. 

A couple weeks ago, while getting myself lost, I quickly discovered how ill-prepared I was for the intended expedition. The ground was frozen and I had the wrong tires on the bike with entirely too much air. I went down three times. The first two falls were relatively harmless. The third fall harbored a greater level of intensity. It caught my attention. In fact, there was enough intensity involved that I took inventory. 

After testing the larger pieces of my body to determine if I remained intact and was working properly, I laid back down. I was lost. It was beautiful. 

Eventually, I started talking to Me: "What in Hell do you think you're doing...riding a bike in the middle of a 250 acre forest...alone? Seriously, you're closer to 50 than 47!" 

Then, Me says to I: "Relax, I'm out here to fall down. You can't pick yourself up until you've been summarily knocked to the ground." 

End of conversation. Get lost.