The learning curve for mountain biking is steep and unforgiving. I have bled on the trail, and on my bike. I have bruises in various states of yellowed-healing. My chainstay is pock-marked with tiny indentations from harsh landings and rough line choices.
Last saturday was supposed to be my first mountain bike race at Lock 4 in Gallatin, Tennessee. Due to a rain-related-reschedule, we went back out to Montgomery Bell again. Yellow (advanced) trail this time.
I’ve been feeling more and more comfortable on the bike each time out. As a result the new bike is starting to feel less like an adversary that I need to control and more like a partner on the trail. Instead of walking over obstacles that gave me pause, I was riding into them. If I had to put a foot down, I turned around and backed up 50-100 feet and rode through that section again. One section that I walked through last time out got ridden twice in each direction while Jonathan shortened his new chain. By the last pass I no longer felt tense and apprehensive while braking on the downhill turn, dropping into the creek, and climbing the rock ledge on the other side. An uphilll log crossing proved particularly difficult, and took several tries before I finally made it over without dabbing a foot (still not pretty, but I did it)
As we continued on the speeds and confidence increased. The Yellow trail at Montgomery Bell is a masterpiece of singletrack design in middle Tennessee. Smooth tread, fully benched against the slope of the terrain, covered in a mat of pine needles. The more notorious sections have names like Chain Reaction and Flume Zoom. Both of these being one steep drop-in after another linked by tight bermed corners that experienced riders can “chain” together with minimal pedaling. We were going the wrong way on this section, and had climbed to the top before realizing that this pitch was obviously meant to be ridden down. And fast. So we did. Then we went around to the trailhead to refill water bottles and ran the entire thing again.
Riding at speed around the perimeter trail at the end of the day was when I felt everything really click for the first time. I wasn’t reacting to specific obstacles or changes in the terrain, I was just flowing. The rear of the bike would sometimes slide out, but I had the confidence to let it hook back up and continue the corner. I was no longer braking just because I was going fast, but because I needed to change my speed. I hopped over a log with both wheels and landed without so much as a chain slap. It was a short lived few moments, but for that time I felt like I knew what I was doing.
Flow.
That learning curve seems just a little less steep now.
