Law Office Of Patrick Silva - May 2018



MEAGAN SILVA Living Trusts and Injury Cases


May 2018


s anybody who knows me or reads my monthly newsletter can tell you, I’ve been an avid mountain biker for years. I jump at any opportunity to get together with fellow bikers to test our mettle, which means that I’m traveling nearly every month to some race or another. But no matter how many races and rides I participate in, I can never spend enough time out in the sun, clambering up technical courses with all my strength. Two months ago, I had the pleasure of participating in a fundraiser ride for a great organization: Bike for Bender. In 2010, a rider named Robert Bender lost his fight with cancer at age 26, and ever since then, the organization has continued in his name. They provide resources to local groups so they can coach and train local young adults who are interested in the sport. Though this particular ride wasn’t designated as a race — probably to skirt the bureaucratic red tape that comes with that title — if you get enough mountain bikers together, anything will get competitive. It took place in Pioneertown, in the low desert of California near Palm Springs, and despite being a fundraiser, the course didn’t pull any punches. Alongside my friend and fellow attorney, Jeremy Waitman, who worked for me briefly when he was fresh out of law school, I gave the ride my all. As you leave Pioneertown, there are 5 miles of road before you even get to dirt, but we couldn’t let that deceive us. After all, those 5 miles had an elevation change of over 1,000 feet, which is an exhausting way to start any course. And then, once we did hit the dirt, it got even more brutal, turning into little more than a sand pit, forcing us to pedal hard just to stay upright. After escaping those 4 inches of sand, the course turned into a landscape of rolling hills, constantly sending us up and down and steadily getting steeper as we went along. At that point,

we were about an hour into the ride, and that’s when Jeremy came up behind me as he picked up his pace, hauling butt. That’s when my competitive instincts kicked in, and I went into overdrive. It wasn’t until the end of the race that I learned my heart had been slamming at an average of 165 beats per minute across the 35-mile race. Not too bad for a 54-year-old guy, if I do say so myself. As I advanced across the course, I began to pass all the guys who had jumped out fast ahead of me in the beginning, including Jeremy. Just then, we hit a vicious 3-mile stretch of incredibly steep mountain bike track, and I steeled my resolve. I continued to pass all the young bucks who’d overspent their endurance early on — that is, until I hit the turnaround point at about 17 miles. You’d think it would be easier, after climbing 17 miles, to head back down, but in fact, it was just as strenuous — if not more so. The exertion required to cruise down those hills with your handlebars rattling as you dodge riders who are still reaching the top is difficult to overstate. Still, despite my legs beginning to cramp up due to a lack of salt and sugar in my body, it was a great time, and I finished ninth, which I think was a respectable standing for a guy my age. My readers may think I write too much about mountain biking, but I’ve just become so passionate about it in the past few years, and I’m eager to share my experiences. If you’ve ever considered borrowing a friend’s mountain bike and hitting the trails, I encourage you to try it out. But beware, it’s addictive. Within a few months, you may find yourself climbing a 3-mile mountain, huffing and puffing with exhaustion as you struggle to reach the top. Trust me, it’s a lot more fun than it sounds! –Patrick Silva

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