“When you ride hard on a mountain bike, sometimes you fall, otherwise you’re not riding hard.”- George Bush. The blood dripped down my arm after a collision with a tree, but I wouldn’t let the pain stop me. I continued down a long winding descent that lead to a narrow path that dropped off into the cold, shallow creek.  I continued on over many more roots and rocks; some of which almost sent me for a cold swim. In the distance, I saw a large log, maybe two and a half feet tall, laying on it’s side. It had a wooden plank laying on top of it making a bridge over it. I decided that the best idea would be to go over it. As I started going over, I realized I didn't have enough speed and I slowly started falling to the side. I closed my eyes and braced for impact, and soon enough, WHACK, I smashed into the ground! My teeth throbbed and my mouth was warm and tasted like iron, which I soon discovered was blood. I stood up and looked around to see if anybody had seen me fall, but no one was around. The pain in my teeth was intense and felt better if I bit into something, so I bit the side of my finger. I slowly walked around the log with my bike, and walked down the trail; I had to find a way off the track. As I walked I saw a man who was clearly drunk. He asked me if I was ok and then offered to show me how to get back.  I followed the man until he saw that I knew where I was going. I got swarmed by parents and other riders when I got back to the tent. As I told them what happened I realized that tears were dripping down my face. When my parents arrived they asked me what happened and made sure I was ok. We then packed up our stuff and started to go home. I later found out the only thing that kept two of my teeth in my mouth was my braces. That was the day I realized safety comes before speed.