Near the middle of April, my mom was contacted by Jefferson county public schools. They had a program, called the Homebound program, where students who couldn't attend school in person would attend school online with a tutor. I qualified for it, and while my mom wasn't sure if I could attend it all the way through my senior year, she knew I needed it to catch up so I wasn't held back.
I was pretty much left in the dark for the next couple weeks when it came to school. In the meantime, I worked to get back to my old self. Emotionally, I was back to my old self, but my body hadn't caught up yet. I lost a lot of weight and a lot of strength while I was sick, and getting that back would take months, if not years. I had a severe case of cabin fever, so to counter it, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents', where my grandpa took me skeet shooting and hiking. I also went for a lot of long walks around my neighborhood at home, and sometimes I set up old tin cans in my backyard and shot them with my BB gun. I was getting more and more eager to get out of my house and go live my life. I had been pent up for far too long!
Near the end of April, the trails in the mountains were finally dry enough for me to get back on the dirtbike. I was still weaker than I once was, but I was determined to get back to riding. With my dad's help, we tuned up the dirtbike so it would be ready to go. It hadn't been ridden in months, so I wasn't quite sure how it would do. But, while I hadn't ridden in a long time, I trusted myself. I still knew how to ride, and my dirtbike was still the same as it had always been, albeit just a little more squirrelly than usual. But all two strokes are like that, so it wasn't anything I didn't know how to handle.
Together, my dad and I lifted my dirtbike onto the back hitch, strapped it down, and then headed deep into the mountains. I was dressed as warmly as possible, and had plenty of protective gear as well. I'll never ride my dirtbike without a helmet and goggles, and I'll never go on the mountain trails without wearing shin guards and gloves. There are a lot of rocks and loose tree branches that get kicked up along the way.
On the way there, I chugged down a large bottle of Mountain Dew and talked to my dad about my new school plan. The ride needed to be quick, because I had to be home to meet my tutor who would help me finish 11th grade. My dad was skeptical of the online school program. He believed it wasn't as good as regular school, but I assured him the online school curriculum was exactly the same as the regular school curriculum.
My dad asked me how much time I'd spend doing online school everyday. I didn't know, but I assumed I'd spent at least a few hours everyday doing school. My dad asked if I knew who my tutor was, and I said I had no idea, but I'd meet them later that evening. Finally, my dad asked if I was excited to meet my new tutor and get back to school. I had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I was excited to get back to normal life, but I was very nervous. I was nervous about meeting my tutor and plunging myself back into school where I left off two months before. The last thing I wanted to do was jump back in and get overwhelmed. In some ways, just thinking about school overwhelmed me. I had a lot of ground to cover and a lot of information to review to see where I stood. I wasn't sure how long it would take me to catch up to where I was, and get to where I needed to be to finish 11th grade.
My dad appreciated my honest response and told me to not worry about it. No matter what happened, I would survive. If Homebound went well, great! If Homebound turned out to be a complete disaster, so be it! But no matter what happened, I'd come out alive. My dad told me to stop thinking about school for the moment, and get ready to get on my dirtbike and raise some hell!
We arrived at the trailhead just before noon. It was partly cloudy, and while it was cold, it wasn't too cold. The wind is what made it cold. There was still a lot of snow on the mountains, but the trail was dry enough for me to make it through just fine. I quickly threw my gear on while my dad took the bike off the hitch and got it started to warm up. As soon as I was ready, my dad got back in his Xterra, and together we set off on the steep and rocky trail.
As the snow melted high above the treeline, it trickled down in steady streams down the cliff sides and across the trail. The winter weather had worn huge holes into the rocky road, most of which were full of cold snow water, and there were a few fallen trees laying across as well. It was very treacherous, especially since it hadn't been cleared up yet. There were a few people in 4x4's that were built like tanks, and plenty of dirtbike riders on the trail that day, but for the most part, it was empty. While my dad slowly crawled through the mud and over the fallen trees in his Xterra, I was flying over some stretches of the road, and had to wait for my dad to catch up to get a drink.
At one point, I found myself approaching a shaded bend where there was a six-foot snowdrift. I stopped and stared at it. I heard my dad pull up behind me, and after a couple of minutes, he honked his horn and revved his engine. He was more successful in scaring me than he was in motivating me, but he pulled forward and threatened to push me along with his SUV, so I pinned the throttle and slid through the snow. Of course, as soon as I got through the snow, I launched off a small lip in the road directly into an ankle-deep puddle. I cringed with shock as cold, muddy water splashed over my legs, but I quickly rode out of that puddle before my dad splashed through it too.
About 50 yards later, I was stopped by an army of Jeeps that were idling on the trail. I pulled up near the front of the cavalry of jeeps, and saw that at least 25 yards of the trail was covered in about 2 feet of snow. My dad pulled up behind the jeeps and got out to talk to one of the drivers. The driver said that it was too risky, and chances are the trail only got snowier from there. He said they were planning on turning around. The jeeps were much better equipped with off-roading equipment than my dad's Xterra, so instead of doing something stupid, my dad and I turned around.
On the way back, just as I approached the snowdrift, a rider on a 250cc two-stroke dirtbike crashed and nearly took me out with her bike. She hit the powerband just as she got into the snow, launching the dirtbike forward without her. I decided to get out of there as quickly as possible before the other riders had a chance to crash too, and then I slowed down to wait for my dad. While I sat in silence, I pulled out my phone to take a few pictures of the scenery and checked the time. It was already 2:00 in the afternoon! I had four hours to get my ass back home, cleaned up, and fed before I had to meet my tutor! The trail looked wide open to me, so I figured I could get home in time to clean myself up and get some food.
I looked down at myself. My mom would be very upset if I met my tutor in the condition I currently was. My jeans were soaked through and spotted with mud. My back was also very wet and cold, and when I moved my feet around, water sloshed around in my boots. I reached back to pull my hair out of my hoodie, and even it was tangled and drenched in mud. I wasn't even sure how that was possible, considering I had stuffed it into my hoodie to prevent exactly that from happening. My dad pulled up behind me, and I glanced back at him with a concerned look in my eyes. He saw it, rolled down his window, and shouted, "Well, don't just sit there! Let's get going!"
I kicked my dirtbike back to life, and together we hauled ass down the trail. We only slowed down for oncoming drivers, but otherwise drove as fast as we safely could. We charged over rocks and potholes, through frozen streams of snow melt, and over fallen trees. I felt free and alive again, with the wind whistling through my helmet as I whizzed past the wilderness. I couldn't wipe my ear-to-ear smile off my face, even when I met my dad at the Moffat tunnel parking lot, where we loaded up my dirtbike. I was relaxed and at peace. My ride did exactly what I hoped it would do.
About halfway home, once the adrenaline passed and the soreness settled in, I got nervous and worried again. I tried telling myself that it was just irrational anxiety, and everything would be fine, but that didn't help all that much. I didn't even understand why I was so nervous. I was getting back into school, but I wouldn't be alone. I wouldn't be going to a building occupied by other students for 7 hours a day. I wouldn't have to wake up well before the crack of dawn to make it to school. I wouldn't be expected to keep up with everyone else in school. Instead, I finally held the reins to my education, and I had the ultimate say in things.
I later figured out that the anxiety I was feeling was coming from the fear of the unknown. I had no idea what Homebound was or who I'd be meeting that evening. I honestly forgot what algebra was, and I hadn't written anything in months. I had been in survival mode for a long time, only thinking enough to outsmart Pseudomonas by waging biological warfare within my own body. In hindsight, I've realized that it takes a lot of intelligence and guts to do that, but at the time, phage virus therapy seemed like a very simple concept that a kindergartener could easily master. I was worried I'd go into school and embarrass myself with how little I actually knew, but I eventually reminded myself that I was in charge of my own education, and I would eventually catch up. Much like how I trusted that I still knew how to handle my dirtbike after months of being off it, I needed to trust that I still knew how to learn, and everything I learned in school would come flooding back to me.
When I finally arrived home with a little less than two hours to get cleaned up, I helped my dad get my dirtbike off the hitch and into the garage. It was drenched in mud, but I figured I'd spray it off later if I had time. My dad left, and I lugged my gear into the house, dropping it off in the front foyer, and going directly into the shower. Once I got out, I looked in the dryer for some clean clothes. Unfortunately, my mom did not load my laundry from the washer into the dryer, so all of my clothes were soaking wet. I decided that I'd just quickly wipe the mud off of my dry but muddy jeans with a wet towel, and hope for the best. At least my T shirt was mud-free and I found a fresh hoodie hanging in my closet.
When I finally came out, my grandma was at the house. My mom had a work event to go to during the day, so my grandma came over to watch my little brother for her. My grandma was excited to see me and gave me a big bear hug. I immediately pulled away. I didn't realize how tender I was until she squeezed the air out of my lungs. I apologized, and explained to her that I just went for a two hour dirtbike ride, and I was paying for it. My grandma understood, and asked if getting me some frozen yogurt would help me feel better. I told her it would, but I didn't want to go with her because I had a meeting in less than an hour, and didn't want to rush her. Plus, I didn't want to walk around. My legs were giving up on me as we spoke, and I had two flights of stairs to climb up so I could be present for the meeting. My grandma laughed at me, told me she'd bring some frozen yogurt back for me, and then called my little brother down so he could get frozen yogurt with her.
As soon as they left, I dragged my aching body up the stairs. I felt like I set myself on fire, but I couldn't garner sympathy because I did it to myself. At the same time, I was proud of myself. I went for an intense dirtbike ride. I pushed myself almost beyond my limits, and proved to myself that I wasn't sick or weak anymore. The pain I was in was good pain to be in, so I had every reason to be nothing but proud. I slowly eased myself into a wooden chair at the kitchen bar, and then rested my arms on the cold white granite. The pain was getting worse, and when I glanced at the clock, so did my anxiety.
My mom arrived home around the same time my grandma returned with my frozen yogurt. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I had a mouthful of cake batter flavored frozen yogurt. I was practically starving, but figured I could survive for another couple hours or so before making myself some dinner. For the most part, I just stayed at the bar and zoned out. I was just tired, sore, and hungry, and wanted to get the meeting over with.
