On a different day, Daniel and I stopped at the top of the rutted out section at Black Branch. It was early spring and the orange native azaleas were in bloom. It started raining lightly and felt really good. He and I both talk about that ride from time to time.

Lately I rode Yargo under a lunar eclipse. That was pretty cool.

One in particular stands out though and go figure, it’s a race. Carter’s Lake MTB Classic 2004. I had been struggling all year long in beginner to learn this racing thing and then BOOM, the perfect ride. Third place was the order of the day for me and it seemed so easy!

For me, the physicality, fitness, challenge, etc… are all wonderful things but they are sort of a means to end, if that makes sense. When all those elements work well and combine with what happens chemically in the brain, it is the ultimate feeling of peace and happiness. Two emotions that are often all too fleeting…

I had one of those great rides last Saturday…first time since last Fall really. Just a short hour long ride at The Beach…not even in the mountains.

Everything was dialed in….and it just seemed to be for no particular reason at all.

I wish I could find a way to access it online but I submitted a story to Fat Tire Times about a year or so ago that they published and it echoed some of these same types of things. It was simply about, “why we ride”.

anyway, great article and thanks for sharing….

Starting out on the ride, she feels stong, stronger than she has felt in a long time. Life is looking up; things are good. Twenty people are ready to start the ride. She and the other women lead out. Behind the two stonger women, she starts to draw on their power. They pull her along, with the guys following a safe distance behind. Her legs are beginning warm up; she isn’t getting dropped like she normally does. She is still close to the front, but two of the experts pass her. The group is at the first stopping point so that everyone can catch up.

Her legs are on fire; her lungs are open. She is not having an asthma attack for the first time in weeks. The first expert goes off, she follows. The second expert passes, she sticks to his wheel. Finally, he pulls away. Still behind her are all of the sport men, the expert women, and everyone else. Her bike begins to float, barely touching the ground. Suddenly, nothing seperates her and the bike–they truely become one. The new entity weaves in and out of the single track, bouncing off of the bermed corners onto the next one down the first hill and up the next. It eats up the ground at a record breaking pace. No one is in sight; the entity is left alone to float on air. It follows the curves of the roots and rocks, feeling nothing except freedom and the wind. There are no sounds, no stress, no worries. The world is hers to take. The feeling is unlike anything she has felt in a long time, a rush like no other. Suddenly, the trees disappear and the gravel road is beneath it. The spell is broken. The two experts are waiting for her at the road; everyone else trickles in. She smiles at the experts and they smile back. She turns around to see everyone else smiling at her. She can do it!

This is mountain biking!

This was my ride……

I CAN do it….

I saw Shaun Thompson (world champ surfer in the 80’s) do a really late drop and make the section. So, easy! So I setup and a local drops in about 20 feet in front of me. Crank a quick turn and I am about 15′ behind him. He gets a standup barrel. As he kicks out, I shoot by him. It was about a 7′ Sunset insider and that is about as deep in a tube you can get. The guy who snaked me did not do it again. That was January of 86. I was out there for the Morey Boogie Pro Invitational at Pipe. The perfect ride. The insanely deep barrel of a lifetime and the ‘in your face’ if you thought your were deep ride.

Next year was when I got the most punishing over-the-falls wipeout at Pipe. Headached for an hour. Blew my leash off my leg (but my board popped up besides me.) Too late at Pipe with too much rail shoots you back up. Then it feels like being in the middle of a Rolling Thunder drop from a B-52.