Chris Writing Anything

Long ago, and actually, to say it was long ago, it wouldn’t be an accurate statement, but, at one point in my life, I dreamed of being a decent mountain biker. Now, I truly believe I am.

And it’s an odd thing, because, years before I set tires on a single track, I often talked about trying it. Yet, those I confided in, well, they probably thought I was being phony and pretentious. I mean, my definition of the sport, being that I essentially had no real knowledge, came from what I saw on TV. When watching those shows, I was extremely jealous, those crazy dudes looked like bad asses.

And I’ll agree, maybe, some of that daydreaming was meant to impress. I mean, heck, it makes me sound athletic and daring. And Who the hell wouldn’t want to be athletic and daring?

But, as you can most likely guess, mountain biking was one of those lofty ambitions, and yes, it was practically a fantasy. It was like saying, “One day I’ll go skydiving.” Some realize that goal, but, for many, it’s simply a pipe dream. In the back of my mind, I had figured I’d never have the guts.

Then, one day, a few years after I quit smoking, I forced myself to go mountain biking. And I mean I made myself go. I wasn’t going to do anything ultra-crazy, but I was going to get some fresh air plus a little exercise.

My reason? I wanted a trim appearance, and I wanted to be healthier. I figured, since I had stopped smoking, now I could progressively improve my health.

This was how I viewed my undertaking, I wanted a a decent body, but I didn’t want to go the traditional route… you know, treadmills and weight machines. When I thought about workout routines, not to mention a rather uncomfortable gym atmosphere….I don’t know, it was just boring and awkward. I wanted something fun and adventurous. Not to mention, a wooded trail, one with a whitetail dear alertly poised next to it, beats a sweaty dude trying to impress the chic on the ab machine.

So, I began my first trek, and I wrote about it. When I chronicled my ride, and detailed the Reforestation Camp, I expressed how I searched for serenity and exercise. And that’s how I promoted it…it was far from B.S.

Okay, now, I have to admit, when I decided that, yeah, I had an affinity for the sport, even if I only owned a cheap mountain bike…Oh, and my skills were woeful to none, I tried to make myself look like a serious mountain biker guy. Yeah, I guess I was a little phony and pretentious.

I could say I was desperately trying to impress my girlfriend. Yet, judging from her reaction, she thought I was an idiot. Despite that, I bought a cycling jersey and shorts. I thought I was being cool. Don’t get me wrong, those that ride well, and wear the correct gear, certainly have their reasons. My only reason, though I’ll only ruefully admit it, was to look cool.

As for my skills, when I first started, like I said, the reforestation camp’s Balsam Trail seemed an impossible challenge. More than a handful of hills, and today I laugh in disbelief, left me walking my bike to the apex. Similarly, I’d ride the brakes descending steep slopes. Rarely, with me out of breath, exhausted and sweaty, would I actually finish that trail.

Keep in mind, the bike I had was junk. Also, and probably more importantly, today, my legs are five times stronger.

After a full summer of riding, I actually felt like I accomplished something…although I was probably the worst regular rider the Reforestation Camp had. And because I felt inferior, naturally, I blamed it on the bike. So, during fall, I purchased an entry level Trek. It’s actually a fairly good bike, and I still ride it. To tell the truth, I know it so well, it’d be hard to part with it.

Anyways, the new bike did make the trail much easier. But…I was still a subpar rider, even if I hadn’t realized it yet.

I think the reality hit me during a busy Saturday morning. While in the Reforestation Camp’s crowded parking lot, a proud man, about half my age, claimed he biked the Balsam in forty-two minutes. I thought he was full of crap. It took me over an hour to complete the same circuit.

Later that summer, that same guy passed me on a downhill. Of course, I pulled aside before he had to slow down. Yet, he was descending the hill faster than what I thought was possible. It was then and there, in a moment of revelation, I realized that, if I wanted to be a good rider, I’d have to become much braver…and I did.

Now, no hill stops me…well, okay, once in a while I’ll make a mistake, but it’s a very rare occurrence. If you’re wondering, especially after I penned that brief tale, yes, although my hands are at the ready, I, very sparingly, only tap the brakes down fast hills. You wouldn’t believe how much time that cuts.

Over the years, fewer and fewer pass me, and yesterday, a month and thirteen days before my fiftieth birthday, and after a ten mile paddle and a 1.5 mile run, I rode the Balsam in under 45 minutes. It might not have been 42 minutes, but, the guy who recorded that time was half my age. So, yeah, I can live with 44:24. On a perfect day, I could probably register a time under 44 minutes.

Lastly, I have a cycling jersey, but I don’t wear it. I’ll leave those duds to the serious racers and bike club members. I’m just a casual rider, and, although I do take the trails seriously, I wear an athletic tee and some baggy biking shorts.

I guess, my attitude now is, and if you just want a fun pastime, you might agree with this sentiment, just get down and dirty. What I mean is, take everything the trail has to offer, pick your lines and choose your gears wisely. Half of the battle is strength and endurance, but much of it is also intelligence and focus.

So, if you arrive at the Reforestation Camp, and you’re sporting a Jeep with the top down, I’ll admire your car. I’ll also wonder, that is when I see it attached to your super rugged ride, if it’d make sense to own a Thule bike rack. However, and I thank god, and those who maintain the Brown County parks, the trail will be the same for all of us. The fact that we choose to ride, well, that’s our bond.