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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 a great ride in Pisgah and and a great story of overcoming lifes challenges. Check them out.

Pisgah: An Experience to Live By.
Marcus Hesse
May 2003


Ever remember your first time going to the Chapel Hill trails? I do, and for me, it was a whole new experience that overcame me. For the first time I got away from my small neighborhood trails, and got to see what it really meant to go biking for a day. Not only did I get to be around many people with the same hobby as me, but I was able to do actual trails built for this purpose. The enjoyment overcame me, and I immediately became hooked. I knew this was a sport I wanted to do as a major hobby. But of course, this was a while ago.

Now as I’ve grown into the sport, my skills and standards have grown greatly for trails. And as far as Durham goes, Chapel Hill is the only thing that lets me get my gun off. However, I had always wanted to bike in the mountains since I fell in love with this sport, and this year, I finally did.

I chose to do so in North Carolina’s Pisgah National Forest. So, spring break came from school, and my bud and me headed on over to western North Carolina with a trail guide in hand. We arrived at Davidson River Campground at 5:30, and immediately threw the bikes off the car, and headed to our first trail in the mountains, North Slope. We started the trail, as big of smiles on our faces as could imagine, only soon starting the uphill. We knew we were in the mountains and up hills were going to be hard, but we simply couldn’t believe just how long and steep it was. Huffing and puffing up a 1.5 mile uphill and taking breaks, we finally reached the top of this trail. At this point we thought we really overdid ourselves, we wouldn’t be able to handle it out here in the mountains. Discouraged and tired after a 1.5 mile uphill, we started the downhill.

All of a sudden something overcame me, something that seemed it had been waiting to just be used. With David following behind me, I screamed out a “Whoo!” as my momentum sprung me to 15 mph in no time. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into, or what cliff, log, or jump might lie just around the corner, but I simply didn’t care. I kept my speed up, shifting into seventh, eighth, then ninth. I forced myself to stay in ninth, even though my adrenaline was telling me to shift to my second ring. I flew over roots, rocks, holes, you name it at nearly 20 mph. Then another emotion kicked in to mix with the adrenaline. Fear. Not only was I going a very hefty 20 mph, but this was a 3 ft wide trail, with a rock wall on one side (the mountain), and a immediate 400 ft drop off on the other. I knew that one false move, one bad root, could send me off the edge. I now knew the meaning of “ridge riding”. But still, I put it behind me and continued. . 4 miles later, I dropped out at the finish; and man, what an experience.

Over the next few days, my life became Mountain Biking. Wake up, do trails, come back, shower, lunch, bike more until sundown. Trails we did constantly got longer and longer as our physical shape improved. After 2 or 3 days, a 3 mile steep uphill on abandoned forest roads became a normal thing, and didn’t effect us nearly at all. As soon as I became confident in my up hills, I ran into a local, Mark, that showed us a couple trails. His physical shape and condition was simply amazing. As he stayed in front of me the whole time, shaking his head that I wasn’t able to keep up, I was laughing in disbelief. What these locals can do going uphill seems to exceed human possibility. I kept up with him on the technical 5-mile downhill fine, and shook his hand as he left us to go back to his home 5 minutes away. Another experience to be never forgotten.

Probably the last major thing to really blow me away about this place was of course the scenery. This was truly the great outdoors, as passing huge 100ft waterfalls became a normal occurrence. . Sometimes breathtaking, stopping your 15 mph downhill was a must to simply gaze before continuing. Rhododendrons tunnels are very common, and are a sight to bike through. . My favorite though, was of course the ridge riding, as peering over a cliff and mountains in the distance was as you can imagine, quite swell.

Upon returning home, I had time to think about what I just accomplished, and I had a completely new definition of Mountain Biking. Mountain Biking isn’t something you just go do on the weekends to have some fun and tell your friends about what “huge jumps” you did, and how you obtained the scars you got. It’s a way of living and experiencing new things. Getting away from your life, and finding out what your deeper inner self is like. Facing my fears of things I thought I couldn’t do on these crazy downhill trails only matured me in mental sense, while seeing amazing sights primitive to city lights and street signs showed me where we human beings really belong. Outdoors. Sure, I was an accomplished Boy Scout for 13 years, but doing something I love while miles away from any person or civilization is something we all should experience. We were born, and evolved outdoors. And Mountain Biking takes us back there, where we belong by nature.


"LEMONS TO LEMONADE"
Tammy Kaufman
 May 2003

There's and old adage that goes something like "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade". I never really thought about the "lemons" as
being plain old words. However, for better or worse, we live in the information age, filled oftentimes with mindless chit-chat, and I think
sometimes we forget how available our words are to the entire world, and how much power those words can wield. A few years ago, I never would have imagined how deeply simple words can affect the heart and soul of someone, and how much they can change a life - for better or for worse, and sometimes both.

When I was first starting out riding, there was a lovely and talented young lady here locally who rode with me nearly every day after work.
She was always the one who called me to ride and we always seemed to have a great time together - or so I thought - so I assumed she truly
wanted to ride with me, even though I was slower and less bold than her. Well, anyway, one day when she had called me and left a message on my answering machine about riding, apparently when she hung up the phone, it did not disconnect, so her conversation with another biking friend of hers wound up accidentally getting recorded. Turns out they began discussing how slow I was and how it was just "torture" to ride with me, and how they had never seen anyone so slow and unskilled as a rider, etc. Well, needless to say, it crushed me. I did speak with her about it right away; she desperately tried to make excuses, and I truly believe it was not her intention to hurt me, but sadly the damage was done - the words were out and there was no taking them back. Having already been rather concerned about being a very timid and slow beginner at a somewhat older age (mid 30s when I started riding), I was totally devastated to hear this from someone I had considered my friend and riding buddy. So, I stopped riding with her; in fact, I stopped riding with anyone. For a solid two years, I rode solo every single time I
went out - which was nearly every day, as I was desperate to prove her wrong and to learn to ride well. Then finally I got comfortable enough to ride with hubby. Basically he has been my only real riding partner since then, and of course, has consistently told me that I belittle myself
regarding my riding and that "you're better than you think you are". He encouraged and worked with me, even going so far as to provide support
for me while I competed as a solo rider at multiple 24 hour events - I was too afraid to compete on a team, fearing that I would be the slow
member who would hold the team back; and he even convinced me to try downhill racing. I wasn't terribly successful at that - almost always
placing last - but did begin to discover that frequently my bikes would compensate for some of my limitations as a rider.

Despite all of this, I still continued to feel inferior as a cyclist, always being hesitant to join in any group rides, and even fearful of attending clinics because I didn't want to hold anyone else back. And the funny thing is, I never even realized how poorly I viewed myself as
a rider until I ran into this same woman not too long ago at a restaurant. We're still friendly to one another, and we chatted briefly
about cycling - and suddenly I realized how I minimized my abilities and every single biking accomplishment I have ever achieved during our
conversation, and it dawned on me where that seed of self-discouragement had initially begun to grow in me those few years back.

Now, I'm not blaming her for my lack of confidence (goodness knows, growing up in a family in the 1960s who firmly believed that women
simply should not "do sports" contributed greatly to that); and although I do think that incident set in motion a pattern of negative self-talk
that did perhaps hinder my progression as a biker somewhat, in all reality, I believe I owe this woman a word of thanks. Had it not been
for overhearing that conversation, I never would have realized how deeply words can affect someone. That, in turn, might not have led to
me discovering one of the greatest joys I have experienced in my cycling life, which is teaching beginners how to ride. I believe the despair
and hurt that I felt those years ago sparked a desire in me to learn, to rise above that discouraging conversation, and most importantly, to be
more aware of my own words and actions around others. Had I not felt the need to prove to myself that she was wrong about me, I may never have tried an endurance race, or a downhill race, or taken beginners out for their first rides - all things that have given me more joy than I could
ever have hoped for. I'm grateful that something in my soul "connected" with cycling in such depth as to keep me from giving up on it, and made
me keep trying and hanging with it, squeezing the "lemons" I heard on my answering machine those years ago into the sweet "lemonade" that my biking has become of late.

 

 

 

 

"Just keep riding your bikes. Make fun of each other, make fun of yourselves. Just keep riding your bike and have a good time." Zap