Going Over

I went over on my bike this morning. Been a while since I did that. Last time, I cranked too hard on a sharp turn at the top of what was, for me, a steep hill. You rarely choose these moments, but it was a good place for going over. It was a smooth patch of dirt with no rocks or sharp stumps. I was lucky. It just knocked the wind out of me.

This time, I was coming up an unremarkable hill on my normal route at 5:30 am, and during the night a large branch the size of a medium-sized tree dropped across the path. I was looking down and didn’t realize how completely it blocked my way. I tried to go around, but I didn't have enough momentum.

So I went over.

Going over is a skill. You don’t want to let bone hit the ground. I bunched up the meaty part of my arm and shoulder to hit the pavement, and I started to exhale before I hit. I got up and moved as much of the branch as I could by myself. The rest of the work is going to need a chainsaw. I cleared enough of a path for people to go around, and took a picture.

Boxing transfers a similar set of skills. Sometimes, the other guy is just better than you. He’s stronger or faster, or his hands are heavy like cement-filled lunchboxes. So all you can do is slow him down or stymie him. You clinch when he’s in the zone to frustrate his energy and force him to spend time and calories getting out. It’s not going to win you any fights, but it can mute the ass-kicking a good fighter can lay down, or even force a draw.

Learning how to fail is a skill, and for most of us, it’s a necessary life skill because we will fail. I sometimes wish I had a little less experience with this particular skill. But it is what it is.

Some people avoid circumstances where they might fail. Others deny failing, even when it happens. Both approaches avoid learning how to go over.

So far, I’ve been lucky. Going over, I haven't hit my head or landed on anything sharp. Learning to recover and heal from that is a different skill.

That’s another lesson for a different day.