The Scene

The scene around my local trails is one mirrored by, trail heads and parking lots all over the Us, and maybe the world. Cars, trucks, mini vans, and work vans. The sport of mountain biking bridges all Genders, races, and ages. Our noble sport does not put limitations on the people that want to be involved. I think the melting pot type attitude is what creates the atmosphere I love so much.

One of the local trail heads I frequent on a multi day basis is called Carvins Cove. Or just “The Cove”. On any given day, rain or shine, hot or cold, you will meet someone at the lot. The salt of the earth come to this location to dawn the lycra, baggies, full face, or XC lid. Maybe it is just the southern hospitality, but on many group rides new people tag on. They may be new to the area, or just passing through. It is always a pleasure to show this Gem of the Blueridge to fresh tires. It’s that hospitality that, on many occasions, has meant the difference in me walking, or riding back to my car. My trails are filled with locals that are willing to give the shirt off their back just to make sure you get the most out of your ride. I had one such experience in my Mountain bike youth. Inexperience and naivety, conspired to create a ride that put me miles away from my car in the dark and without food water or a phone. I must admit I am not proud or that experience, but it is one I have grown from. My saving grace was a very helpful rider by the name of John. I never saw him again, but he saved me a load of trouble. He had some water, a fresh tube, and a light to guide us home. Back at the car, a cold beverage was waiting as well as some advice. “Pack for the worst, and hope for the best”. Words that have been muttered all over through time. They were words that spoke to me and words I have never forgotten. Whenever I am out and pop a tube, or see someone walking back on the trail I always think back to that experience. Because of “John’s” help I try and pay it forward. Spinning up and down the hills on my Airborne, I always keep an eye and a ear out for other riders. Weather it is to help someone our with a trailside fix or just catch up with someone you have lost touch with. That’s what makes our little cross section of humanity so special. And also why we look out for one another. It’s like no other sport I know. We are all in competition with ourselves, but part of a greater whole.

It is the “John’s” of the world that make me appreciate the scene at my local trail heads. The baggies and the lycra mixing. Sharing a post ride beverage, and a word about the day. It does not matter if you ride a Wal-Mart special, or a $5000 carbon race bike. If you are at the Cove, you are welcome. You are part of the scene and the fabric of the mountain community. So Pack for the worst, and hope for the best. Keep an extra trail map in the boot of your car, share that brew with a new friend met in the lot. Jump in your cars, trucks and mini van, and bring the kids with you. It’s the fuel our sport needs to keep it alive. I will see you at the trailhead.

Solitude

Solitude

This is what Wikipedia says about solitude.

Solitude is a state of seclusion or isolation, i.e., lack of contact with people. It may stem from bad relationships, deliberate choice, infectious disease, mental disorders, neurological disorders or circumstances of employment or situation (see castaway).

I count my rides with friends high on my list of important things in my life. If you are not a mountain biker I doubt you will understand the bonds you can form while toiling up a rather ling climb, or the freedom you feel on a adrenalin pumping descent. The bonds go beyond the normal banter of friends, and the curtsy you extend to an acquaintance. It’s important to realize the importance of a ride with friends, and why it makes this sport so important to so many people. But a group ride is not always what you need. Sometimes you need to be alone.

I try to ride more often than not. Many of my rides are accompanied by friends and co workers. It’s something I love to share. But sometimes I need to go at it alone. In the peace and quiet of my own mind. There is something about the ticking of the freehub, and the sound of my tires over loam and roots. The solitude frees me to think, get lost in my own mind and, de compress. This kind of solitude was not inflicted by a bad relationship, infectious disease, or a neurological disorder. It is a self imposed solitude. On the loan rides, I always seem to see more colors, and the air almost smells sweeter. I take the time to look at this creation and really appreciate what I have been given as a playground. Toiling up a long climb. I appreciate the silence and I can focus on my task as I try to beat my personal best. And shredding down the ling descent is not rushed, I can take the time and enjoy the flow. I don’t have to show off or try and hot dog down the mountain. Just get in the grove and enjoy the simple harmony of 2 wheels on dirt.

The solitude of a ride alone is something I had to grow to enjoy. I think it is an important part of a healthy life in the saddle. We all need a little time to unwind, and re connect with the most primal aspects of a ride. I still need my friends, to ride with me. In fact mountain biking would be lost to me without them. The peace of a ride alone will always be an important part of my life. It’s my hard line connection to the sport I love. It keeps my mind fresh, and my rides with meaning. Sometimes I need the solitude just to compete with myself. So pick up that bike, and go out alone. Spend that time with yourself and re connect.

I will leave this blog in the words of one of the greatest authors in the world. Dr seuss.

“I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you. Dr Seuss”

Fear

False evidence appearing real. Or fear. It’s one of those emotions that rules us completely if we let it. If allowed to creep in, fear can turn a great day into your worst nightmare and a seasoned rider into a crybaby in baggies. Without a firm grip, you will most certainly slip into your own head. The only way to battle fear is with confidence.

In my limited experience I have had a lot of confidence with my bike skills. When fear creeps in, all I have to do is pull it out and munch on it like a leftover confidence burrito. But lately fear seems to be a battle I could not overcome. How it crept in, I do not know. But it left a scar on my memory that was near impossible to heal. It was long jagged and was shaped like the road gap at Snowshoe. That gap had eluded me for going on 3 years this summer. Every chance I was given to heal that wound, was met with a fresh pink scar even bigger than the last. My mental block was growing and I had no idea how to stop it. I layed in bed many nights thinking about how it would go down. In my dream, cheers, ticker tape and friends lifting me on their shoulders concluded my successful landing on the dirt. Standing on the lip and looking down on the lander made me laugh as I thought back on that silly dream. Where had my confidence gone? The burrito wasn’t helping, it was giving me heartburn. I am usually the guy that guinea pig's this type of stuff. Every trip down the mountain took me past that jump. And every time I planned on hitting it, only to chicken out at the last second.

My breakthrough came when I was following some friends down the mountain. Three riders that had not ever been to Snowshoe. And before that day had never been on a DH bike. How could I let myself be defeated that easy. How did they master the fear? Then it hit me like a Dio song at the karaoke bar. They were having fun. I had been focused on it, sweating it. I needed to loosen up and relax. “False evidence appearing real”. What is the worst thing that could happen? I was on my TAKA, a bike designed for this. It had carried me down the mountain all day with not a single fail yet. I have the skills, I have done bigger features than this. And most importantly I am here to have fun, not worry about one jump on a trail I have rode 100 times. I just need to break that burrito out of the tin foil wrapper take a big bite and get my confidence back.

On the next trip down the mountain I sent it off the big road gap. The fear was shed. My mental block was gone, and the wound was healed. New skin grew over the spot where once my mind was ripped wide open. I don’t think my three fellow riders, knew what they did for me. But they did it in a big way. I have since tried to look at why fear grips me with some things and not others. It almost always starts with doubt in myself. If I didn’t say that then I would be lying. And if you have not felt it, then you are lying to yourself. I think this is something that comes natural to all us 2 wheeled freaks. Road, XC,DH it does not matter. Fear is a battle we will face from time to time. But a battle we must win if we want to grow. So fill up your confidence tanks. It may be a ride with friends, finally cleaning that climb you have been working on, or simply adding a new part. Save it up for those days fear comes calling, Take a bite and move on.