Lizard Brain Debut

I met my lizard brain at an eRag clinic in May 2019.  It was mid-afternoon and I was getting tired.  We were practicing the log punch technique and I was on my fourth attempt.  I am a cautious rider, and though I was crossing the log well, I wasn’t executing the technique.

I pulled up in the line up of riders and was coached to “be aggressive” on this attempt.  I thought, “why not?”  It’s my last attempt, there are all of those friendly spotters there to save me, and I have to step it up to grow, right?

I approached the log with my version of aggression.  Good/aggressive body position, determined eyes, but freaking out/shitting my pants on the inside.  However, I committed and punched the log harder than I ever had.

The next thing I know, I am flying down the field, looking at sky.  WTF???  White noise fills my ears.  Then it dawns on me grimly.  I am in an out-of-control wheelie racing through the field.

And. There. Is. Nothing. I. Am. Doing. About. It. 

My lizard brain has assumed control of the bike.  No rear brake.  No clutch.  Just shamelessly hanging on while my lizard brain does what it does best – fuck everything up.  In front of everybody.

“Lizard brain” is a term made famous by Barry Morris and refers to our instinctive responses in emergency situations.  There is no one part of the brain that is actually representative of the term “lizard brain” as this response is a complex mixture of instinct, “fight or flight” and fear centers.  Sometimes these responses save our life.  Sometimes these responses result in catastrophic public failure (refer to exhibit A in the field above).  Examples include: dabbing your foot while off-balance or grabbing a handful of front brake when barreling down a hill.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, my weight starting shifting to the right, causing the bike to tip to the right.  The front tire finally touched down and I was kicked off the bike and to crash hard on to my right side.

I laid there, desperately willing my brain to catch up with current events.  Lizard brain slinked off behind the rocks, mildly ashamed.  Ok, no major injuries.  No exploding pain.  Just disbelief and the early waves of embarrassment.  

Though I was planning on lying there for a while, suddenly, the air was filled with the thundering sound of many running footsteps.  All of my spotters were upon me: lifting my bike up, gingerly helping me to my feet, and best of all, heaping on the praise for my perfectly executed log-punch technique and subsequent celebration wheelie.  

I laughed nervously and admitted it wasn’t on purpose.  They didn’t believe me.  It was that good.  

In the days since the spectacular debut of my lizard brain, I have contemplated the events that unfolded that fateful afternoon.  I am torn about risk taking.  I want to grow as a rider, but my thus far, my attempts at “being aggressive” have been extremely unsuccessful (to say the least).  Part of me thinks I should hang my boots up (I am clearly a menace to society).  Those around me tell me this is part of the growth process.  Really??  Can you really shove your lizard brain out of the way and perfectly execute the log punch technique with a marshmallow landing despite all instincts to the contrary? (Sigh. Shrug.) I will think about my next move after I ice my wrist.