Redemption

After my ego flogging at the racing clinic a couple of days ago, I was not eager to ride the mountain bike in a group setting again anytime soon. (I love and respect ya’ll (especially you Gripped folks), but I’m tired of chasing your skinny asses through the woods.) I knew if I wanted to get myself feeling good again, I needed to ride in a setting where keeping up with people far better than me was not an issue. I chose to hit Rosaryville State Park because the last time I was there it was rutted and frozen and some speedy locals did two laps in the time it took me to do one. I was ready for some redemption, in more ways than one.

Rutts. Rosaryville this past January.

Today was a beautiful, sunny, 80-degree pre-Fall day, so my Vitamin D levels and spirits were high just being outside. The trail parking lot was just a couple of spots short of being full. I tried not to let the crowd with their potentially judging eyes of my mismatching cycling ensemble make me nervous (although there’s something to be said for dressing to set accurate expectations).

As usual I spent the first few minutes sweating and wheezing and working out the anxiety. I hit the brakes too hard. I bobbled. I pulled off the trail to let people by, rather than testing my skills at riding off and back on the trail safely. I tried not to feel weak because others were riding cross bikes [for f*ck’s sake]. I consciously tried to keep loose, shaking out my hands and rolling my shoulders, but the death grip on my handlebars is something ingrained right now. I looked at my watch – I had only gone 15 minutes and my back was already soaked. Oy.

Thankfully after a few miles, the Rosy trail smoothes out and really starts rolling. After the mental noise of my anxiety quieted down, I started hearing the soundbites of friends with the bits and pieces of advice they’ve given me. Lean into corners. Fight back when the trail pushes you one way. Bend your arms and let the bike press into you when a sharp uphill bucks the bike up and wants to launch you unsuspectingly into the firmament. Suddenly I understood what people meant when they said “flow-y.” I wasn’t freaking out going over roots. It might be overstating it, but I had a bit of a Spidey moment – I felt like I had better vision and was reacting faster to things that appeared on the trail. I was remembering places that I had seen on the few trail runs I had done there in the Spring and was anticipating better. It had been a hard time finding it, but I was actually having fun.

I took a turn a little too hot and had to try to bank off of a log on the side of the trail. Unfortunately the log was not lodged in place, so it and I slide out. But that was the only mishap of the entire lap.

I got back to the parking lot feeling good (for once). I was sweaty but not completely exhausted and wondered if I had another lap in me. I was enjoying feeling somewhat successful and happy and was a little worried about going out and having a crash or negating my good lap with a lousy one. After popping some Powerbar chews and resting for a few minutes to let the sugar high kick in, I decided to temp fate and go for it.

Some anxiety resurfaced because I knew I was pushing my luck and risking my good mood by going back out, but once I realized that I was flowing better and riding faster the second time around, I relaxed. I still weenied out whenever another rider went by, (and thank you to the non-DBs who acknowledged the gesture) because I felt my legs starting to fatigue. Otherwise I tried to stay steady and not stop much, except for the technical things I truly couldn’t clear. I rode over log piles and through creek crossing. I shifted down in anticipation of climbs that stopped me up before now that I knew what was coming.

Hurricane Irene brought massive flooding to the park, which washed away a bridge crossing, so a nasty culvert is all that’s left. As I dismounted to walk across, a dude in a Cannondale team kit came up behind me and rode clear across. I was impressed. It was such nasty terrain that I didn’t feel bad at all for walking, so in that case it was kinda cool watching someone who really knew what he was doing. At this point, I still don’t quite know what’s possible on a bike and am often quite amazed.

Hitting each landmark as I rode made me feel better and better. The park road and no falling. The descent where those dudes lapped me last time and no falling. The one semi-tough climb on the trail before the end and no falling. I was able to appreciate the flow of the trail and not get stopped up on roots too much. My reactions were quicker, my movements more confident, my attitude rising.

I reached the end and was amazed at how good I still felt. Tired to be sure but still with a lot of life left. And I was beaming from successfully completing two laps in about two hours, when the last time it took me an hour and a half to do one. Another rider in the parking lot tempted me: “Going for a third?” But I thought one affront to the gods of fate was enough for one day.

Lesson Learned
It’s not the same as watching a good rider, but I am feeling certain things out the more I ride. I’m at a point where I’m trying to figure out what I guess is a delicate balance between knowing when to move the bike and when to move your body. A very common piece of advice is, “lean into the turn.” I’m understanding that concept when going down flowy descents, but on unbanked, gravelly switchbacks leaning your body into the turn seems like the last thing you [I] wanna do. I’m sure this is partly due to my tendency to ride slow, but in some cases leaning my weight into the turn while pushing the bike the opposite direction as something of a counterweight seems to be the trick. I can’t always actually DO that, but I get it!

I still feel like I fishtail a lot either going over roots or trying to turn through an obstacle too soon. Am I approaching those incorrectly or is that a feeling I need to get used to? Seems the more I learn, the more questions I have. I suppose that shall be my fate so long as I am a beginner.

My next step is a critical one, because, so far, every time I have taken steps forward, I seem to inevitably take subsequent steps back. Consequently, progress seems slow. At this point I need to not bow to peer pressure, not try to do too much too quickly, and ride within myself and my ability. When a well-meaning but completely delusional friend tries to get me to ride at Patapsco or Gambrill, I need to remember my missteps and avoid getting sucked into something I know will only pummel my confidence. This is not a race. I’m not getting paid. I have the rest of my life to learn to mountain bike. The whole reason I decided to pursue this was because I thought it would be fun. I need to make sure I’m being guided by that. Always.