The summer before senior year, when my family and I made the decision to travel to Colorado for two weeks, I decided that I really wanted to try something that wouldn't otherwise be possible in the flatlands of Florida-mountain biking.

I loved to bike in general, and thought that this would be my opportunity to weave effortlessly through mountain roads as I went flying along at speeds of up to 15 miles per hour. Beforehand, soon after we'd arrived in Denver, we were doing another activity-white water rafting- and met a family with a 9 year old boy that had broken his arm the year before when he tried mountain biking.

Somehow, this didn't deter me. And when I went with my dad to pick out my bike and gear at the shop in Aspen before heading up the mountain, I decided against the full body suit because I was under the assumption that I wouldn't need it.

My parents and brother had decided not to participate in this particular excursion for reasons I now understand. So I set out alone up the mountain with my bike on the gondola. At the top of the mountain, I wasn't sure where to go. My dad had told me to look for trails marked green because they were for beginners.

So I did the first smart thing I'd done all day and found a trail marked with a green sign, following two people as they set off down the hill on their bikes. It looked so smooth and easy that I got on my bike and took off after them.

As soon as I was actually on the bike, I realized that this wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. For one, the gravel under the tires made my bike rattle and shake more than the gwazi rollercoaster at Busch Gardens. On top of that, I had underestimated how fast the bike would go and started to feel like I was losing control. I decided to brake and get my bearings as I was hitting a turn, and before I knew it I ended up on the ground with the bike on top of me.

I had two bruises from the fall that turned into scars I still have today. In a weird way, I'm proud of those scars.

I was too scared to get back on the bike after that, so I just walked it the rest of the way down, despite the heat and the bugs.

Although I would definitely do some things differently next time I want to try mountain biking, I don't regret that hot summer day in Colorado. If anything, I've learned an important lesson from it.

If you're going mountain biking and they ask whether you want a full bodysuit, just say yes.