How I went from wimp to rebel overnight! (Ride On).

First off, a confession: I am a self-proclaimed wimp. I'm not what you would call a big risk-taker- even the uncertainty of a good game of Truth or Dare taxes my nerves. As a result, my amazing, life-changing experiences are somewhat in limited supply.

So when GL dared me to break out of my comfort zone, take a risk and blast across the Arizona desert on 178 pounds of off-road motorcycle along with five girls I'd never met, I laughed. Then, something freaky happened. I (gulp) accepted the challenge.

DAY ONE Packed into a Suzuki SUV, the girls and I set out across the desert-lined streets en route to the unknown.

Upon arriving at Extreme Arizona, home of world-famous, award-winning cyclist Steve Hatch and his Motorcycle Adventures dirt bike school and custom-designed off-road tours, we suited up.

I had no idea how much gear goes into dirt-biking. From specially made boots and padded pants to gloves, goggles, helmet and chest protector, the appropriate gear is essential for safety's sake-plus, it looks real tough.

Once I was armored up in several pounds of protective gear, it hit me that my lack of fear up to that point was due to the fact that, well, I was clueless. I mean how hard could it be? Tots as young as 3 and 4 ride four-wheel ATVs and dirt bikes all the time, right?

After Jun, our Motorcycle Safety Foundation instructor, deemed us grads of Motorcycle Safety 101, we were introduced to our bikes. I apprehensively approached the posse of yellow Suzuki DRZ-125 bikes. After a moment of slient prayer, I mounted my bike and released the kick-stand. Man, bikes are heavy! Kick-stand up, helmet and goggles on, so far so good, until.. .it was time to fire that baby up.

I kicked down hard against the starter. Then, harder and harder. It didn't take me long to figure out that these bikes aren't exactly the stick-in-the-key-and- let-'er-rip variety. Nope, these are for real, boot-stomping, hard-starting, sweat-inducing bikes. After embarrassing attempts at kicking with all my might, I was rescued by one of the super-experienced instructors.

Motors revving, we lined up to take turns cruising at cautious speeds across the practice area, which was basically a blanket of dirt. Mind you, not only do you have to master turning the bike on, but then you have a clutch, four gears, a foot brake, a hand brake, an accelerator and a kill switch to figure out. Hello, information overdrive!

As I took a turn parading my bike safely across the practice area, I let go of the clutch.. .stall. After a couple fruitless kicks, I was again rescued by an expert kick-starter. I straddled my bike and waited my turn to traverse the field a second time. Somehow-and I stand by that-I was suddenly speeding across the dirt.. .headed straight for a tree.

I think I grabbed my brakes as the tree grew larger but, it all happened so fast, I can't be sure. Instinctively, I bailed and narrowly averted the tree as I did a full body skid across the ground. The bike- still running-landed inches away (from me, not the tree).

Honestly, I was so caught off by the whole thing that I didn't even have time to be scared. After making sure I was OK, the guys reassured me that "these things happen all the time." My bike was retrieved from its side and started up again way before the wimp in me even had time to consider running off into the sunset. As it turns out, getting back on the bike was just what I needed.

DAY TWO Tatooed in fist-sized bruises from my calf to my shin, I learned the hard way how strenuous and exhausting riding a motorcycle can be. My body ached all over, but it was no match for the condition my nerves were in. Despite my performance the day before, I was going for a desert ride.

As we pulled up to what looked like the backdrop to a Hollywood western, we were greeted by a wild donkey who'd clearly seen better days (as in way dead--ew). And not only do wild donkeys, bears and mountain lions call the desert home, but so do rattlesnakes! We were advised to stick to the trail at all times and, should we find ourselves lost, to stay put, no matter what-someone would be back to fetch us. Jeepers! Just the kind of knowledge we wimps love...

As the group headed off for the trail, I realized the skills and semi-confidence I'd mustered up the day before had mysteriously vanished overnight. Not that I was keeping track, but I had a total of four big wipe-outs, including two near-miss cactus face-plants. I had even more bruises to prove it!

After finally mastering the kick-start the previous afternoon, I couldn't even kick-start my bike if I had to save myself from a herd of wild buffalo. Frustrated and deflated, I welcomed our return to the RV for lunch.

I couldn't eat. I was too upset with myself for not kicking up that desert dust. While the instructors were more than patient, it stung that I needed so much help. As the group ate, I sat outside by myself, antsy to hit the trails again. I looked around and, suddenly, I was overcome with a humbled feeling.

Staring at my stunning, surreal surroundings, I realized I had subconsciously set unrealistic expectations for myself. It was like, "Duh--why would you waste such an amazing experience beating yourself up because you can't ride like a pro?"

As the group readied to conquer a more difficult trail, my apprehension returned. Then, one girl asked Jun if he'd stay behind and work with her on a long straight trail. I requested to stay back, too. Without pressures and distractions of the group, I started my bike first try, and then flew off, shifting into fourth gear without a hitch. I was going three times faster than I'd ever gone. My bike was cruising along at a smooth purr, rather than a loud and choppy sputtering.

That was it--I needed space. In 30 minutes of cruise time, I didn't wipe out or stall once. And, not only did I feel an unfamiliar confidence, I understood what it was all about. Freedom! I've never felt so free, as the air whipped past my helmet. It reminded me that life is not all about being the fastest or the bravest. It's about doing what makes you feel best.

As I neared the site of the morning's first fall, I couldn't help but smile as I charged over the sandy terrain, floating across rocks and stones that had earlier instilled fear. No longer obstacles, each one represented what I could accomplish but, even more than that, what I'd thought I couldn't only hours ago. This was my adventure, my challenge. And I can't wait for the chance to tear up the dirt again!