Thrills, spills, & the many sides of MTBing

Mountainbiking can be such a strange sport. People enjoy it for many different reasons. For some, it's about getting away and escaping from everyday life - when you're out of the office and away from the family - up high on a mountain somewhere surrounded by nature, your time is your own to reflect, ponder, take in the scenery and the sounds of your wheels rolling, your chain rattling, the sound of your own breathing. For others, it's all about hanging out with friends and enjoying a common interest with people who understand why you spend every spare moment on your bike, or working on your bikes, or looking at new bikes. Or every weekend talking about your bikes with your biking friends. Others enjoy using it as a competitive outlet - something that they can strive to excel in. To reach the top and to do the best they can. For some it's about the adrenaline rush - challenging yourself to ride that knarly bit of singletrack or off that drop, do that jump, clear that gap. Then there's the people who do it to get fit, to experiment with the idea of getting outdoors - maybe they're out to spend time with their family, taking their kids along (and getting skooled by them). Whatever the reason, we all have them. And it doesn't have to be just one reason - it can be them all.

Yesterday's ride was a mixture of a lot of those factors. I was scheduled for a 4 hour mountainbike ride in preparation for the Makara Peak Rally. The plan was to head out and pre-ride my course for the Tour de Peak (Sport grade - every track in the Park except Possum Bait, Vertigo, Trickle Falls, and T3). I left home at 10am on my bike and headed up the Park by myself.

The first element was the competitive one - less than a couple of hundred metres in, I was chasing the two riders who were riding ahead of me. They let me pass, with one mumbling "good effort!" to me as I passed. And after that I was determined to stay ahead of them. Damn my competitive streak.

The next was the sound of silence. No other riders in the Park that I could hear or see. It was just me, my bike, and the singletrack that lay before me. With my own thoughts and the occasional song lyric going on in my head, I pedalled along, climbing higher and higher with the view stretching out before me. The wind at the top let me know that nature sometimes wants to be the boss or at least have some influence on my ride. But that was fine. I headed down another 4wd track which met the road. Along the road, and back up to the summit via another couple of trails.

The next descent I met was Ridgeline. A rather rocky, steep-in-places descent that I've been trying to improve my technical skills on each successive ride down. And the adrenaline kicked in. Nothing like blasting down sections that you couldn't ride a year ago. However, the wind was quite strong at the top and threw me off my lines a bit. Into one particular section with a little (1 ft if that) drop and I hesitated because of the wind. Uh oh. And it all went wrong. Over the drop and the handlebars and I collapsed in a heap on the singletrack. Ouch. After a few seconds, I rolled over to the grass on the side, and somehow managed to drag my bike off the track. There I lay in the grass for a few minutes. Me, my bike, and the pain. Luckily nothing was broken (on myself or the bike), but my leg had taken most of the impact of the crash. I wished I was riding with friends, but was kind of glad I was by myself so no-one could see me. Me, hiding in the grass, curled up in the foetal position. Yeah.. I'm a tough mountainbiker chick, sure.

Finally, I slowly sat up, stood up, and picked my bike up. This wasn't going to stop me finishing my ride. For one, I was near the top of the descent out of the Park, and for another, I needed to get my confidence back stat. A quick push back up and I was on my bike again. Approach the drop, rolled it.. Yay made it over safe and sound. The rest of the descent was rather painful. It was my right leg that I'd banged up, and is my leading/forward leg leg on the bike, so the one I rely on for balance on the descents. What followed was a very, very slow and somewhat painful descent out of the Park. Every bump on the track felt a lot larger than it was. And every corner was trickier as I tried to shift my weight around the bike but couldn't do so particularly successfully. I reached the carpark at the bottom and was ready to go home. Ride time 2 hours 15 minutes. Damn.

Unfortunately for me and my leg, I had volunteered to take a social pre-ride of the Tour de Peak Rec course at 1pm that afternoon. A quick trip home to get some sympathy from my husband, an ice-pack for 15 minutes or so, some lunch, and I was back on my bike again. The knee was quite sore to start off with but if I kept moving it, the pain dulled somewhat, so I tried to stay on the bike as much as possible. I arrived at the carpark (again) and met up with the people who had shown up for the pre-ride.

You can't help but get enthusiastic about riding when you're riding with people who want to go riding with you and love the trails as much as you do. Our group had a few kids along also, and their enthusiasm and determination, as well as the support from parents/caregivers, was great to see. We spent just over an hour riding some of the lower, more easy/intermediate tracks in the Park, conservations and stops along the way. We returned to the carpark a happy bunch of people, and headed off our respective ways. For most, it was back home. For me.. well, I looked down at my speedo and I still had another 38 minutes of ride time left, so back up the main singletrack into the Park I went again.

By myself again, and I came across another couple of riders on their bikes. A couple of guys in their twenties wobbling their way up the track. It was cool seeing beginners out there and enjoying the Park and challenging themselves. I passed them with a cheery "thank you! enjoy your ride!" and was off on my merry way again. Pedal, pedal, pedal up. Cruising on back down. Up the road for a bit, down another piece of singletrack to fill in some more time, and I finally made it back home again. 3:30pm. Total ride time 4 hours 1 minute. What a day.

So.. the couch, duvet, ice-pack, a cup of tea, some home-baked scones, and Grey's Anatomy episodes on DVD to keep me entertained. That was the rest of my Saturday. A big ride, some of it by myself, some of it with others. Sometimes chasing others, sometimes admiring the scenery, the goats and rabbits (including the baby goat that decided to play dead on the tracks as the rest of the family ran away from me.. awwww!). I'm sore, tired, battered, and bruised (a rest day today I've decided), but happy.

Mountainbiking - be it the thrill of descending, enjoying time on the bike, time outside, the company, the challenges it brings, the spills that happen along the way - it's all part of the sport. And it's a sport I absolutely love. I'll get to work on Monday and my work-mates will look at me funny as I limp around in the corridors not understanding why I do this to myself, but I don't care. I had a great weekend doing what I love (for so many different reasons), and that's what matters the most.