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Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill

Writings on Riding
This is the place for monthy content from a few of our local members. Here you may find articles about events in the Triangle, interviews with local mountain bike leaders, write ups and editorials. Check back here often for new "news" stories. Want to be a regular contributer? Contact the webmaster at [email protected].

This month we have:
Mountain Biking - Not Just for Tomboys anymore
Why everyone should have a cyclocross bike
A Beautiful Day for a Ride

MOUNTAIN BIKING - NOT JUST FOR TOMBOYS ANYMORE
By Tammy Kaufman
March 2003

"You carry lipstick in your Camelbak?" My (male) friend was incredulous when he caught me putting my flavored and tinted lip balm into my hydration pack before heading out onto the trail, and that got me started wondering. Perhaps that’s why so many women are hesitant to take up mountain biking. No, not because of the lipstick. Because there is no stigma to being a tomboy who mountain bikes, but there does seem to be a misconception that to succeed in the sport, one has to surrender her femininity.

Fortunately, though, that’s all it is, a misconception. There are so many "girly-girls" who ride, and ride hard. Ever hear of Paula Pezzo, on her pink Gary Fisher, with her pink helmet, wearing mascara and lipstick, winning the Olympic Gold in her metalflake shorts? Or what about Jamie Little - yes, that gorgeous woman with the ESPN microphone interviewing all the motocross stars? That’s right, she’s a top-notch downhiller. I saw her at Nationals at Snowshoe last year, wearing all white motocross pants and jersey, winning her class with freshly applied lipstick and red nail polish. Or Anka Martin and April Lawyer, who look and sound more like fashion models than downhillers, but boldly take on the toughest courses fearlessly and with more guts and determination than many men. And then there is my own personal mountain biking heroine, Jacquie Phelan, who has won more titles than I could ever list on this page including numerous NORBA National Championships, who always raced wearing pearls and usually in a frilly white blouse.

These women, and many others, have accomplished incredible feats of athleticism in the biking world, and yet have retained all that makes them women, proudly sporting their femininity. As one hard-riding young lady put it, "We’re coming to the bike trail, and we’re bringing our skirts with us." They make me proud, not only to be a mountain biker, but to be a woman mountain biker. So yes, I do carry lipstick in my Camelbak, which I strap happily onto the shoulders of my flower print jersey atop my pastel green skort, and ride.

Why everyone should have a Cyclocross bike
By Tim Broyer
March 2003

After a recent ride, my buddy and I were eating some chicken wings and downing a couple pints when the conversation shifted to cyclocross bikes. His jaw almost hit the floor when I told him that, if for some reason, I was to only have one bike, it would be my cyclocross bike. Why you ask?

To validate the statement, it's important to know what bikes I currently own. Not trying to brag here, but it helps make the point. I own a road bike, a full-suspension XC mountain bike, a single speed mountain bike, a hard-tail mountain bike and a cyclocross bike. I ride them all and they each have their place in my world.

What is a cyclocross bike? In short, it's a road bike frame, with some mountain bike components. I'm not going to get into a ton of detail, but I will describe my bike for you to help you get the picture. It's a 27 speed, road frame. I have an XTR rear derailleur, XTR triple cranks and BB with Ultegra road brake/shift levers. It has the classic road handle bars but I have added a set of brake levers in-line on the top of the bar. It runs a 700 x 35c knobby tire and cantilever brakes. The geometry is pretty relaxed compared to a road racing bike.

Cyclocross has its roots in the European road racing scene. A cyclocross race is generally short circuits around a paved/dirt/trail course with built in obstacles. Riders jump of the bike, hoist it up real quick and jump back on. The theory is to slow the riders down but keep their heart rates up. It's a pretty good spectacle and one of the hardest races I have ever done. It's very popular with the European road racing set as a winter diversion.

The bike is a jack of all trades, master of none kind of thing. It's a lot of fun. When I first started riding as a kid, it was total freedom. I loved to explore on my bike. I would ride for hours and quickly learned every street and place in my neighborhood. That desire to explore has never left me. Its one reason why I am always looking for new single-track. I love the adventure.

The cross bike excels at exploration. I can hop on it, shoot down the road a few miles, divert onto a dirt road, check out some fire roads, bunny hop a log, and hit some (tame) single track all in one ride! In one ride, I have almost hit all my favorite things to do on a bike. I have gotten some good spinning on the road, got dirty on the single track and explored parts unknown. I routinely strap the GPS on it and head out in search of lost empires. Undaunted by what the path throws at me, the bike can take most of it. It's the bike of choice to run down to the grocery store for more beer and coffee beans.

The bike is very versatile. You could slap some road tires on it and hang with the roadies to do a century. Pack up the panniers and do some touring. The gearing is low, so pulling a pack up the Blue Ridge Parkway is very doable. Slap the big knobbies on it and tear up the fire roads and single track. Granted, I'm not going to tear up Rocky Road on it, but I have taken it on Hog Run and parts of Crabtree. One day, I rode it over to the old railroad bed now called the American Tobacco Trail. I did a few miles on the trail, complete with stream crossings and log hops. On my return, I dropped off the trail onto the road home. A group of roadies passed me up. Feeling strong, I jumped onto the draft and hung with them until my next turn off. I was covered in mud while their machines hummed in glorified cleanliness.

If for some reason I was limited to only one bike. The cyclocross bike would be it. It doesn't hammer the single track like my mountain bike and isn't as fast as the road bike, but it satisfies many sides of my soul and brings out the kid in me. See you on the trail/road/rail-bed/fire road etc.

A Beautiful Day for a Ride
 by Wil Mikes
March 2003

It was such a beautiful day. I knew it would be when I took Lady out for her morning "constitution." (My dog) The air was cool but not really frigid. The sun was shining with just a smattering of clouds, scattered in the sky. It was such a pleasant change from the cold and rain of the last what seems like months, but may have only been weeks. Obviously a good day to play hooky and go for a ride!

I could see the trail… still a little wet in the shady spots but in the sun, the trail had taken on that almost mystical perfection. Tacky for great traction, kicking up a little earth on hard acceleration and off camber turns, but not coating you in sticky wet brownness. The air was crisp and cool enough to keep all but the most ambitious off the trail. And the sunlight was peeking through winter barren trees, speckling streams of gold here and there.

I heard those first few birds, just as amazed as I was at such a beautiful day. There was a squirrel, leaping from tree to barren tree, playing for the first time after a long, wet winter. I could even see that the trees perked up a bit, stretching to catch every ray of warmth they could.

Getting on my Marlin, I heard her groan slightly, not quite welcoming those extra pounds gained over a winter of not riding. My legs searched for the limberness that they had found last year. At first, my lungs stung, but slowly accepted the rushing of brisk air with open arms (even if it wasn't as quite as warm as I'd have liked).

I'm certainly glad that I bought those gauntlets last year to prevent that finger stiffness that keeps you from being able to stop! Not being a weight-weenie, I doubt I'll ever break down to get leg warmers, so jeans and long johns had to do. I did finally buy a skullcap. Since I am of the top-ventilated hairstyle, it seemed a like smart necessity. (Maybe a top of the head photo)

At the first crank of the pedals, I got that little bobble, not really being warmed up, wishing I could be one of those natural athletes instead of the occasional couch potato I know I am. I hit that first damp root that kicked me sideways and felt my shoulders jolt into action, correcting my course. Then that wonderful thing called muscle memory awakened.

Riding down the trail, everything began to flow. All the concerns about bills, work, love life, or lack thereof, all melted away. It became my Marlin, the woods, and me. No threat of war, terrorism, or rush hour traffic, just the rush of trees, less then an inch away. Branches of shrubs scraped across my thoroughly covered skin. Those beams of sunlight splashed me with just a little more warmth as I cruised through them.

My ears perked at the sound of my tires driving into the tacky earth, my chain ratcheting across the teeth of my cassette, and my fork pumping. My eyes scanned the trail ahead, never staying on my front wheel, oh no, always looking for hazards and the beauty the forest so aptly hides. Perhaps it'll be a deer or even a fox, pacing me along the trail. It's happened before!

Then I began to hear it. Softly at first, but building. The sounds of traffic rolling through a stoplight, some DJ rambling on with another visual joke instead of playing music, and the blaring horn of the car behind me. The driver telling me, only in the kindest terms, to wake the hell up and get the fork out of the way.

Bitter reality crashed in. I've got to pay for that next part, in this case, next frame somehow. So off to work I go. But I'll remember this daydream and play it back as often as I need to, until I finally go for that first ride of the season.