My first real experience with riding a mountain bike was
over Labor Day weekend 2008. I had a
fairly nice mountain bike that I'd occasionally used for shuttle duty on kayak
expeditions, but I'd never really ridden it off road. Then my brother told me that a local state
park had a mountain bike trail system.
Huh, whaddaya know about that - they make trail systems for MOUNTAIN
BIKES! After one trip I was pretty much
hooked.
Thing is that I was SLOW.
Of course newbies are always slow, but I remember timing an early ride
where it took me 1 hour 5 minutes to ride the easiest 3.0 miles of the trail
system, which included a half mile of road. Even though it's relatively flat
in northeast Ohio the hills were killing me.
I found myself having to stop and walk up almost every one, gasping for
breath. I have some respiratory problems
that usually don't cause any trouble, but leave me out of breath with a
relatively low level of exertion. But I
was never one to stop doing something I enjoyed simply because I had no
aptitude for it, so I just kept on riding.
Within a year my fitness level had improved quite a
bit. I'd lost some weight, though
not as much as I had hoped since my legs seemed to get bigger every time my
stomach got smaller. My coordination and
balance improved, pushing my cross country skills from "newbie" to
"intermediate" level. And by
the next year I was able to ride up every hill in the park. I was still panting like a dog at the top,
and often ended up in granny gear to finish - but I could do it. And another bonus - with the improvement to
my breathing I stopped getting respiratory infections like I had been for the
last several years. I haven't had a
single pneumonia hospitalization - which used to be at least a yearly
occurrence - since I started riding.
But I'm still slow.
My technical riding skills have greatly improved, my leg, core and upper
body muscles are much better - but I still have a limit set by my
breathing. The way I put it is to say that my legs
can write checks that my lungs can't cash.
When I'm out riding and I see these healthy young riders speed up a hill
that I took several minutes to grind my way up, I can only grin and keep on
going. And since I'm usually a solo mtbr
my slow speed doesn't really affect anyone but me.
Then I got involved with the creation of a new mountain
bike club in our area, Rust Belt Revival Trail Coalition. It took a bit for it to become an official
IMBA chapter, but it wasn't long before that first group ride was
scheduled. So I bit the bullet, crossed
my fingers, oiled the chain and headed out to my first group ride. At the trailhead it turned out to be a pretty
small crew - the president, treasurer and me (secretary) - but I warned them
right off the bat that they would be fast and I would be slow. And though they assured me they were 'going
to take it easy' it wasn't five minutes before they were gone into the
distance.
Well, I knew I was slow, and I knew that they would
definitely ditch me on the climbs. But I
had hoped that my regular riding routine had given me enough chops to at least
keep up on the downhills. Turns out I
was wrong. I spent a couple of days
feeling old and slow, not wanting to ride, and being embarrassed by my glacial pace.
But the next week I decided that I was going to take a
'mental health day' off work and spend it on my bike in the woods. I mentioned it to my brother, who also rides,
and he unexpectedly was able to get some time off and accompany me. So on a fine and sunny morning we headed east
into Pennsylvania to get some riding in at Kennerdell tract of Clear Creek
State Forest. It turned out to be a
great day for riding - not as blazing hot as it had been, with temps in the 70's
and a nice breeze on the ridge tops. We
started out on a trail that I hadn't ridden before and headed off into the lush
Allegheny forest.
Three hours later we were back at the car - hot, sweaty and
dirty. The ride was one of those where
everything just seemed perfect, one of those days that will stay in your memory
forever. We rode a mixed bag of flowy
contours, rocky technical features, and steep downhill trails with a short
session of riding in the abandoned strip mine.
There were no real crashes, injuries or broken bikes. We didn't get lost or dehydrated. And though I could barely muster strength to
pedal the last half mile it was an absolutely great, totally fun day of riding.
The GPS said we rode something over 10 miles, with over 1600
feet of climbing. If I compare those
numbers to the some of the serious riders they look like a nice slow recovery
ride. But for me it was an all out ride,
pushing myself as hard as I could. And I
decided that was what was important - how my performance relates to ME, not how
it relates to other riders who are 30 years younger than me and have never had
to deal with any sort of respiratory problem.
On the ride home, and really for the next several days, all I could do
was just grin thinking about the hills and rocks, the wind in my face and the
sweat on my back.
That's what makes it real for me. Doing what you can, while you can still do
it. I may not be the greatest mountain
biker in the world (or even in my town) but I'm out there putting a smile on my
face rather than sitting on a couch with a beer in one hand and a Twinkie in
the other. I'm going to give it my best
shot until there's no way I can ride at all any more.
So now I'm putting together a 'Super Slow Riders' email list
for pickup mountain bike rides at the local park. I know there are other slow guys out there
who also spend most of their time riding solo.
I think that riding mountain bikes for the social aspect is absolutely
silly, but there isn't anything wrong with a little bit of company on the
trail. And maybe we can push each other
a bit, get a little friendly competition here and there. And who knows - I might actually find
someone slower than me!
