Mountain Biking? “You have to be out of your mind, my son says”
I had finally burned out at the gym. I have been going for as long as I remember, even back in high school. And it had gotten to the point that if I missed the gym that day I would have tremendous exercise guilt. Add to that how the dread of going was just as miserable. But for an older man, one’s options of variety to stay in shape are slim to none. I tried an early morning yoga class one time and I thought the instructor hated me because she nearly killed me. This coming from a big bad Marine who prided himself on being in tip-top shape. After a 45-minute workout, I was able to slither out to my car and escape to work. I’ll never smirk as long as I live with anyone who tells me they DO yoga. You my friend are a beast and I bow down to your physical superiority.
A friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in almost 30-plus years started attending my Church with his lovely wife and 2 boys. He and I used to play golf almost daily and even though he was a scratch golfer, my game improved drastically just by osmosis. He went on to coach my high school’s golf team for several years. How our established daily and weekly golf outings ended is still a mystery to me. I mean surely it couldn’t have been the poor excuse that I had the birth of my son and then 3 years later, a daughter. What do they call that in certain circles? That’s life? I traded my golf clubs for diaper bags and pacifiers. Kelly was a natural athlete and was also married but, with no kids. No changing messy diapers for him to keep him off the golf course.
After church services, he would often mention to me this crazy thing called Mountain biking. “Are you telling me Kelly that people ride their bikes in the woods? Like, for real?” He found a receptive soul in me because just mentioning the word “gym” sent me screaming. Little did I know or realize that there were bikes MADE to withstand the kind of abuse it would sustain out on trails, crashing into obstacles like trees and not hurting the bike much at all. “What about ME if I crash Kelly?” I thought to myself. I somehow got the feeling he knew I had gym burnout so he started inviting me to go with him. After several weeks I finally succumbed to his persistence and my first mountain bike ride was now on the calendar!
I was so determined to try ANYTHING new to get me out of the gym that when Kelly mentioned I needed to go with him to a local mountain bike shop to pick up an entry-level mountain bike, helmet, gloves, and hydration pack I didn’t hesitate. “How much is this leap of faith going to cost me?” I think I was close to going into cardiac arrest when I glazed over the price tags on all the bikes on the floor. “Surely these can’t be the REAL price and they apply a discount at checkout,” I surmised. A $1000+ and an hour later I was loading my new mountain bike into Kelly’s truck for our ride the next morning. Ouch. Go big or go home was my motto. Right? Or should that be changed to “go big or go home and let buyer’s remorse set in?” It was too late to turn back now. I was in this whether I liked it or not. And my own isolated thoughts about exactly HOW one rides a doggone bike in the woods whenever Kelly would pull me to the side after church really made me question my sanity. Did mountain bike = literal MOUNTAINS? Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into?
I drove to his house mid-morning on Saturday so we could ride to the trails together. Anticipation, nervousness, and anxiety hitting on all cylinders inside my human body. I was a wreck by the time we pulled into the Trailhead. All I could see was a sea of other mountain bikers, their sparkling bikes, and multi-colored clothes and helmets. “Is mountain biking some kind of cult that I don’t know about?” Kelly got out his tools, and air pump and did a quick go-over bike check to make sure everything was in order so that I wouldn’t have any problems as I rode. He gave me some quick tips like I would remember even one the minute he turned away.
As we mounted our bikes in the parking lot and rode around for a few minutes with him giving me some further instructions I felt like this was going to be a cakewalk. I built and rode bikes as a young lad in the southeastern United States and could ride like Evel Knievel during those dry, humid, and sweltering summer days with my brother and cousins. We were bulletproof and nothing could stop us. I once had hit a homemade ramp we built from old lumber lying around full speed to show that I was the King, and “watch me” I screamed as I pedaled as fast as my feet would take me. About as soon as me and this old bike got to the end of the ramp I realized in an instant that we had unknowingly placed the ramp a LITTLE too close to a huge pine tree. This wasn’t going to be a good outcome. So I braced myself, shut my eyes, and then SPLAT! I hit the tree about as good as one could full force. I slowly stood up feeling as if I had broken my arm and my face full of blood from a bloody nose and busted lip. “My mom is in the house and I know she will embrace me with her motherly love and take care of me.” So I ran, well hobbled as fast as I could into the house crying to my mom that I had jumped my bike and hit a tree. Without a blink she looked at me and said, “well I guess that will teach you to stop being foolish on your bike want it?” She pointed to the bathroom and told me to clean up. So much for the sympathy card. Life lessons were being handed out that particular day.
“You ready to get on the trail big boy,” Kelly asked. Snapping back to reality I nodded nervously and followed him into the woods. IT’S HAPPENING! We started dodging trees, rocks, and roots with ease. “I got this!” After a few minutes, we approached a climb that I needed to assess quickly in order to make it up. I made it but I think I coughed up a lung in the process from breathing so hard. I was already worn out and this didn’t seem like that much fun now. We would ride for a few minutes, stop and drink some water to stay hydrated.
Laying on my back on the ground looking up at the sky, “how did I get here and where did that tree come from?” I was just indoctrinated with full membership into the brotherhood of mountain biking by having my first over-the-handlebar (OTB) crash. It literally happened in a nano-second I swear. After assessing that I had no broken bones and the discs in my back had survived I peeled myself off the ground and crawled to the trail’s edge and replayed in my mind what had just happened. “Did that just happen?” Hell yeah, it did! I got up and dusted the dirt off me and I felt like I was one of the guys now. What could be worse than a crash like that where you feel like death is about to occur as you are flying over your handlebars?
By the time we made it back to the trailhead, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even think straight. But I was hooked. Like an addict on his first snort. There was something about the adrenalin of riding in those woods, being a part of nature, being with a friend, and learning something new and invigorating that sucked me right in. I could hear Tim “the tool man” Taylor belting his manly cry “har, har, har”. Isn’t this what we all want after all? To belong, to grow, to venture out into new horizons?
I caught my breath and sucked down what felt like a gallon of water. Trying still to find my faculties and think straight I hear “You ready to go again? Kelly asked. “Wait, what?” I was thinking to myself I felt like I BARELY made it one loop and here he was wanting to go again. I voiced my concern but his rebuttal to me was that the more I rode, the more I learned. “Just great,” I mumbled under my breath. And OFF we go!
Little did I realize that this was to begin my one passion in life that feels like to me at times is as relevant to me as the air I breathe. My escape and solace in ways that words just couldn’t begin to express. Whenever I need to think it’s on the saddle of my Yeti mountain bike cruising through trails and just being one with the great outdoors. It is my opinion that this one passion has helped my mental and emotional well-being above all other things. And this all started at the ripe young age of 52yrs old. My kids thought I had lost my mind and now they see something I love dearly.
To have a passion and you are cognizant of it is one of life’s greatest gems.
