The Mountain Bike Life

Category: Soul

I am hemorrhaging Summer. It is spilling onto the linoleum of time. I am dizzy. Woozy even. Last winter, Summer was an abstract concept. It slowly stretched before me and faded into the vast continuum of all Future. My plans for Summer were primordial. Ill formed without regard for timing or work or family or a single shred of reality they danced before my mind in a silly, childlike, muppet way in a magical land where the sun was locked…

Part of what makes riding a bike so special is the ability to explore. You can ride the same roads and trails every day, or you could add a little variety. Familiarity becomes monotonous and the urge to explore is present. Exploring and going on adventures is one of my favorite things about riding. It really is cool to experience a new area for the first time and not know what is coming around the next corner. By this point…

He thought, without a doubt, in the old days he would’ve driven right by the brown wooden sign half-hidden by weeds that marked the Dorman Woods State Park’s entrance. But for the help of the Galactic Phone, as he called it, he would’ve sped by, for although on the trails his mind falls into comedy stand-up mode, in the car he becomes an oldies crooner. Del Shannon, The Temptations, The Ravens, The Big Bopper, nobody was safe. He was on…

As ever I have a whole new reason why I’ve not ridden my bike as much as I would have liked lately. And, as ever, I can’t really blame anyone for it other than myself. It seemed so very logical, if not even required, that a family of 5 with 3 young (one very young) children and busy lives clearly needed a little more complexity. Perfect answer? A puppy. Obviously. While I was expecting it to eat into my already…

“Everyone has a breaking point, and anyone that hits that point, pushes through it and keeps themselves moving will be a better person afterwards.” Those were the strongest words Dylan had ever read to describe a mountain bike trail. It wasn’t like he sought out killer climbs, he took more joy in getting through a technical rock garden or hitting a berm faster than he should, but the description of the trail he was planning to ride the next day…

Since tearing my ACL, I have been having to make compromises with what I want to do and what I should do. I’ve been having to look for other activities to keep me active but not overdo it. I have surgery scheduled for the end of the month nd my fingers are crossed that it’s not a full ACL reconstruction and only a scope. While cycling is great exercise my physiotherapist and girlfriend would frown upon me doing any aggressive…

The benefit of being a mountain biker doesn’t stop when you put the bike down. If you measure the quality of a relationship by how well it’s going when you’re not out having an adventure, your mountain bike is ‘the One.’ A bike is a kindred spirit, that rare, cool friend that’s always up for anything. It doesn’t care at all about anniversaries, never asks what’s the magic word is, and would never in a million years ask you to…

In January of this year, I had an attack of the freaked out hiker. It was a beautiful Sunday morning in my fave wilderness bike/hike park and I was heading in on a back trail to spend nature time with my daughter Leah. She does not ride, so when we go native, it’s in hiking shoes and hiking hats together. ( It feels so S-L-O-W compared to biking!) But at the same time, when I hike in, I get to…

Somewhere in Pennsylvania he felt something cool on his cheeks. He took his hand off the steering wheel and touched his face. Wetness. He was crying. Not sobbing or blubbering or talking things out with himself. He was just staring, stone-faced, straight ahead, tears running down his face. Then he was hearing the scratching sound. Intermittent. Every twenty miles or so. Maybe more. He varied his speed, accelerated, quickly let his foot off the gas at sixty miles per hour…

After a decade of glorious mountain biking, a time chocked with memories of rides so sweet they paid for the bike a hundred times over, the unthinkable happened – I backed over it with my truck in a parking lot. It had been an expensive purchase, much more than any bike I’d ever owned, and I’d always been a cost-sensitive person.  I was the consummate accepter, forever willing to take something I sort-of wanted over what I really wanted –…

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