November in review.

I bet you've been thinking that the colder temps have forced me to hang it up for the season.
Well, weather is a factor, but not as much as you might think. I won't go out in a downpour or if the roads are covered with wet leaves, cause that's just silly. But snow on deserted roads in the Catskills... sounds like fun!!


The early November snow wasn't sticking to the roads, but it was gorgeous on the grass, the trees, the cars and everywhere else. I had a lovely trek as the snow was falling all around me and the tires were splattering wet stuff up my back. Solitary, cold, quiet, damp, absolutely gorgeous. I could forget the fact that my biking tights were soaked, that my legs were frozen and that I was in a totally unfamiliar area. I had no idea what would appear around the next corner, how challenging the next hill would be or how treacherous the road might become. I could turn where it interested me and back-track anytime I wanted or I could head back to thaw myself with a warm shower. This was my journey that I could end if and when I wanted to end it.

There's nothing quite like being out there alone. You get to experience things on your own terms to your own satisfaction. It's a bit of a narcissistic gift, but something that we should all take time to do, in one way or another.

Mountain biking has had that appeal for me. The rides I've taken so far have been alone. I've had the opportunity to discover my abilities without following any set guidelines.

One week, Rob told me the there was a lake in the woods, I had to find it on my own. The next week, he mentioned a tower at the top of a mountain and a foundation from an old castle or house... yep, had to find that too. I got myself in and back out of some tough situations that I would never have attempted if I didn't have the goal set in front of me.

I've taken some spills and learned from them. I tried to navigate over a log and learned that if you don't pull up enough, It can take you down like a bug on a windshield(Logs make big bruises). I also learned to expect the unexpected. While transferring from one track along a pipeline to another, I hit an invisible patch of sand that tossed me off my bike and landed me with my face inches from one of the coolest mushrooms I'd ever come across. A wide and nearly flat, barely pink cap, round except for a heart like dip in one spot. Cool... If I hadn't fallen, I'd never have seen it.

I also figured out that your tongue should always be firmly planted behind your teeth while on trails.(Fortunately, I did not learn this one by error but by projection while going down an incredibly bouncy incline, teeth chattering from the impact of the terrain on the wheels... Imagine if...)

I've learned that there are certainly times for riding without having your shoes clipped in(so you can ditch easier) but never a time when your feet shouldn't be in control of the pedals. I learned that particular lesson riding down a single track on the pipeline. Brutally bouncy and rocky, feet unable to find the pedals, legs dangling, too treacherous for a lot of breaking, and all the while bouncing on and off the saddle like I was riding a bronco and waiting to get tossed(that's one ride where I was very thankful for not being a guy!) I held on all the way to the bottom by sweat and prayers. Then put my feet on the pedals where they belonged.

More lessons; always know what's ahead of you and... it isn't over till it's over. Coming down a fire road at a good clip, I took my eyes off the road for a second. Then, I slid on small rocks while avoiding some large ones. I lost control just enough to run off the road and into a wide ditch with very treacherous rocks and dips. I knew I was going down and was hoping for a soft spot to land on. Then, just before the ditch ran me into a large cement drainage pipe, I pulled up and got back on the trail. Holy crap! My heart was in my throat! It may have been all of 5 seconds of peril, but I saw my life flash before my eyes!

And after all of this, I still wanted to get back out there and see what I could do.

Another time, I hit some real single track that Rob, again, had mentioned. I must have hit the wrong trail at first, cause I couldn't imagine that he'd ever send me on this one intentionally. I'll call it the "Black Trail of Death". No way, no how anybody was ever riding up this thing and fairly unlikely anyone was riding down it either. It started with four feet of nearly vertical rock face that I had to shoulder my bike for and climb up. If you were going down it, there was zero room for error and a sharp, narrow, unforgiving trail as you came off the drop. Up was surely the way to go... that is, if at all, and if you had little concern for self preservation.

After the climb, it was a short but very technical run into a the "Yellow Trail of..." (come up with any name you like) that ran through the woods. I did climb the yellow trail. I went through young trees so close together that I had to lean from side to side to clear the handle bars through the saplings.

I worked my way up a couple good inclines on this single track trail that I wouldn't have thought I was strong enough to attempt. Then, as all things that go up, so they must come down, I faced an intimidating downhill. I stopped to size it up. Or, to make my list of excuses.

It was getting late, I was alone, I wasn't sure how much further this trail would take me or when it would get me back into the parking lot, so I decided to turn around on this yellow trail and head back to the twisty carriage road I was familiar with. Funny thing, as I backtracked on the trail, going down the hills I had come up seemed even more intimidating than the downhill that suggested I turn around!

So here's the thing, the way we look at an obstacle can determine whether we can overcome it.

If we determine that the road is too long, the mountain too high, the journey too tough, we might as well take a nap and forget that they exist. But if you're in it for the adventure, the challenge, the accomplishment or just the fun of it, you might find power and drive within yourself that you didn't know existed.
Does this hold true off the bike?
Does it hold true in real life?

Try it... and you tell me.

Till our next adventure,
Sandie

Head for the Hills!!!!

Yes, the weather has turned from a seemingly endless autumn to the crisp air of fall. The trees are beautifully emblazened with melon, yellow, russet and orange. So, what is one to do? Get on a bike and tour the mountains, of course!!

Well I naievely took a little run through the woods on my antique mountain bike and instantly thought "Hey, I could do this!" I was riding at the foot of the Allamuchy range, alone, during down time at a music festival. The trails were narrow and a bit hilly. There were roots to ride over and some rocks to do battle with. There was one curve that was perilously close to a 20 or so foot near drop-off. I was living dangerously! Completing my chosen loop, I had to climb a fairly steep part of the trail that was littered with loose gravel and rocks. I breezed through the rest of the course like a seasoned pro.

I emerged worked, damp and happy. Hey, if this is what it's all about, I'm on top of it!

The next week, while searching for rides, I had linked to a page about a mountain bike race not too far from my home. I loved the idea! You see, they had a class for beginner women in multiple age brackets... heck, I could do that! Remember, you don't HAVE to win... completing is as much an accomplishment as placing. Right?

SO, midweek, before the race, I go to the place where they're going to hold it. I park near the only other vehicle in the lot and head out on a supposedly well marked trail. It's a wide path, some bumps and rocks and stuff to go around. I climb a hill and cross another path. I go down a hill. It's pretty darned bumpy littered with rocks. What do I know?... maybe these courses are supposed to be like this. I ride past a hugely steep incline and drop off that pummels down into a ravine. Some of the road here seems to be missing and recently replaced. I go down another incline. The road is incredibly bumpy and covered with rocks. I'm bouncing around so much my eyes seem to be twirling in their sockets, I can't focus, I can't even see the road. It's like the time you drank so much in college that the room spun and everything you saw was in threes and fours... The night you swore to God you'd never drink again if He'd only let you live. Yea, it was like that, only without the nausea. This was insane and not in a good way!

I tell you, it was like riding a dry river bed! You ever walk a river bed? The best one I ever did was in Yosemite, we climbed Bridal Veil Falls to the lowest catch pool. We had to climb and scurry over countless boulders and past signs that listed the statistics of how many serious injuries occur right there by foolish people like us. Now, imagine riding a bike down it.

Okay, so the bike trail wasn't quite that bad but it was close and it was all rocks. There were thousands of larger than grapefruit, baseball and apple sized massess mingled with walnut and grape sized rocks. I was going downhill with the same downhill advantage I have on the road(not too cool here) and bouncing around so much I couldn't see straight while fighting the brakes to slow down or stop or do something while trying to decide which blurs to ride on and which to avoid. When I finally did pull to a stop I looked at the road ahead. More of the same rocks, more incline and a bend. What are you nuts? I've got to be on the wrong path. This HAS to be for ATV's.

I went back up the hills to where the road crossed and re-read the signs. There's a picture of a bike on an arrow. The road I was on had a picture of a knobby tired thing that looked more like a motorcycle and had a figure with a full face-masked helmet. I don't know... I do better with words than pictures, I guess.

So I followed the new trail and went up a gravelly and rocky incline where I didn't shift properly and lost momentum. I clipped out of my pedals but wasn't able to catch myself as I fell hard on the uneven ground. To add interest, I fell on a good incline and the momentum of falling back threw my feet over my head and I did a complete backwards somersault, planted my feet and stood up... and the crowd cheered! ...I was thankfully alone and nobody witnessed it.

I continued the trail to a place where it split and couldn't tell which way to go. After a little contemplation, I went right and eventually came upon a place called Thunder Mountain. It had rusty things in a yard, fencing and "Keep Out" and "No Tresspassing" signs all over. It looked a bit like what I might imagine a paintball range to be like but there were no paint spatters. Deserted and alone, with one flickering neon sign in the window, it felt a bit more sinister. It was on an old road, but I had no idea where I was, where it would lead or if it went anywhere at all. Time to head back.



On the way back I managed to pick up a sizeable stick in my spokes while I was barely rolling. It's a good thing I was going slow, I kicked out quickly and stopped as it slammed into my ankle and drew just a little blood. This was the kind of thing that would throw a rider over the handlebars without warning. Now the bike was essentially stabbed through the heart... shall I take it as an omen?

When I got back to the lot, the guy parked next to me was changing out of his sweaty shirt and loading his bike in his truck. I had seen his fresh tire tracks in a few places on the trails but not enough to track him and tell which route was good for riding. It had just started to drizzle...

"Looks like we got out just in time.", he said. I replied, "Ride here often?" ;-)

He said he was coming for the race on Sunday. I told him I was here to try it out and see if I should enter the race. My decision was a resounding no. I did not have the right tool for the job. If the race was on the trail I rode, I needed a newer bike with shocks, not a 17 year old model with no bounce. He agreed but said I should try it anyway... "the people are so supportive". And heck, I was out here doing it... nobody else was.

Well as things do, it ate at me. By Saturday, I was convinced that if I didn't try, I'd kick myself about it till next year. Sunday morning I hemmed and hawed and efficiently wasted enough time that I arrived too late to register for the beginner class race. So, I did the next best thing, I volunteered!

That was a great move!
I stood at the Start/Finish point with a group of race organizers and wrote numbers and times as racers completed their laps. I saw them coming down a nasty deer trail thingy they called single track. It was NOT something I'd ever want to do on the bike I had. In fact, nearly all of them had these souped up bikes with shocks and springs and floating suspension... the right tools for the job! A few had single speed(one gear, no shifters) bikes, but they went out in a class of their own(they seemed a bit nerdy, kinda like tandem bikes seem nerdy) I saw how the race and the ride worked and got to know a few of the important people while saving my butt from certain injury. A good day!

I left happy that I didn't race but wanting to try that kind of riding. I still had no idea what the entire course was like as I only saw one small section but with the right bike for the job... I'd be more than ready to try.