TRUST

I didn't ride today but I felt compelled to write for two reasons. The first reason is that I'm selling my bike tomorrow. I'm trusting that a different one will replace it.

The second, and I think more interesting, is a connection I recognized when listening to a friend talk about the sport I love. "I don't like mountain biking, " she said. "I don't trust myself on the bike when the trail is narrow with speed and obstacles, " she continued. "I don't feel in control, " she concluded.

This is the same women that an hour before this conversation was doing handstand on her forearms without fear. She was the one encouraging me to trust myself in handstand without the wall. I was so afraid. Afraid to kick up. Afraid when I was doing it. . .I felt like my body was about to flip over. Where was the trust? All I had to do was breathe. Was I forgetting to do so? I wasn't necessarily out of control.

The unknown. It can be frightening and often difficult to trust. When something becomes familiar we know what to expect. We fear less. I've encountered this bridge before. It happens to me when I'm riding and something seems too big, too difficult. It happened to me in whitewater kayaking. I have never been that afraid in my life. I felt that the river was in control. As my skill developed I was able to bridge the gap between fear and confidence. I began to trust myself in situations that were previously filled with fear.

I would like to explore this more in yoga and to figure out how to articulate it to others so I can help them through their own fears in mountain biking and yoga.

Kickin' my own ass

I had thrown my singlespeed in the truck earlier in the day out of laziness. The lazy part was I didn't want to change the pedals on my geared bike so I chose to ride the singlespeed. When the time of the day finally arrived to ride I was racing to finish before dark.

On a trail that I can clean every technical spot on my geared bike I was walking sections and stopping to hang onto trees so I could suck in large gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath. The last time I had felt this winded was when I red lined in a race in the mountains. Perhaps it was the discussion earlier in the day of signing up for the Downieville race that was pushing me to ride faster (and not the approaching darkness).

The Downieville Downhill registration opened last night.

Finding my strength

I thought it was the butter clogging my arteries that was making it difficult to breathe. I knew I was out of shape but if my heart could just pump hard enough to unclog all that butter than maybe I'd be able to breathe. Something is different.

I've steadily been increasing the amount of time I ride over the past couple of months. Yesterday, I realized that I am starting to feel some of my old strength. I've pushed past the butter and found a way to dig deeper again. It feels great to ride without the necessity to stop for fear that I might experience a heart attack.

Feeling the strength again has created a new fire. A burning excitement of possibilty. It feels possible to ride longer, harder, and try new technical moves. I feel a deep passion for the sport and a desire to unclog whatever else is clogging me internally.

Where I want to RIDE in 2007. . .

The Dolomites
Slovenia
Lake Tahoe
Santa Cruz
Downieville

GRACE

While riding I came to the realization that when my breath is calm and I am comfortable I am more graceful. Grace is beauty. Grace feels good.

Grace is what I was daydreaming about when I crashed. My attention was returned when I realized I was going too slow to peddle over the rocks and roots in front of my tire. I was turning a corner at the same time as the obstacles presented themselves. I awoke from my daydream as my bicycle started to fall to the right. I attempted to unclip my shoes from my peddles as I have done thousands of times in the past.

My body and bike hit the ground before my feet came unclipped this time. The force of hitting the ground jolted my feet from my peddles. Once I was released from the peddles my body followed the path of a stream that was finding its way down the mountain. I think the friction of my skin scraping against the rock slowed me down and I was able to use another part of my body to put on the brakes before continuing further in the direction of the stream.

My arm hurt. I could feel a goose egg beginning to form near my elbow. The areas where my skin had been ripped from my body began to sting. I bent over to pick up my bike and access what happened.

It felt very similar to my last crash that hurt (the only crash that ever took me to the hospital). I wasn't paying attention. It wasn't that I was trying something difficult or pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. I simply wasn't paying attention.

It caused me to reflect on all the talk these days about 'being present.' 'Be here now.' 'Live in the present.' 'Focus on the now.'

Yesterday my yoga teacher said, "what can you give right now?" "Not next week." "Not next year." "RIGHT NOW." "Wow," I thought. Here it is again. A reminder. I like reminders. I find it easy to get lost in my thoughts.

No time like the present to start focusing on being here now. Right now I would like to give my attention to grace. Seeking the calm breath that provides beauty in my movement through life.

Grace: n 1 ease of movement 2 acceptance 3 beauty

Mountain Biking as Meditation

I took a meditation workshop this weekend in which the teacher told us anything can be meditation. "It is about awareness," she said. "Witnessing ourselves is the practice," she reminded us.

I have often refered to knitting as meditation. I've tried to meditate sitting and I find myself quite antsy. Sometimes yoga class feels like meditation. The movement. The concentration. The breath.

Then I found myself on a long ride. Four hours, a lot of climbing, and obviously a lot of breathing. I didn't realize that I could reach a meditative state in mountain biking. But I did. It is why I love riding up hill. In order to continue going up I focus on breathing. I become more tired if my mind wanders. If I concentrate on breathing I am transported up the hill as my breath fuels my legs. In the moment all I have is my breath. But I do have more and it makes me happy.

The reward, although I will attempt to not become attached to the outcome, was joy. I felt so happy. Happy. I love mountain biking. I love being outside. I love that I have the ability to play. I want to share these experiences and this joy with others.

* Those Crazy Fixed Gear Folks *

My friend Rainier won his first Alley Cat Race. He races thru the city of San Francisco -- dodging vehicles, pedestrians and other bikes on a bike with no brakes. Cool, huh!!!! In case you haven't heard or have never been -- San Francisco has some steep freakin' hills. They are so steep that I often swear or let out a little scream when I'm driving a vehicle on them. Oh, I also forgot to mention -- his bike only has one gear. ~~~~~yikes, watch out for those cars!!!

Getting back on the bike

This weekend I rode the trail that convinced me to move to the Bay Area. South of the city and outside of Half Moon Bay the trail delivered tall trees, tight singletrack and a lot of elevation gain & loss. The ride re-confirmed that I made the right decision.

The day after I took a couple of my new friends riding north of the city in Marin. I used the guidebook to find a ride that would be appropriate for beginners. This was the first time mountain biking for one of my friends. She told us after the ride that she had a bad crash as a kid and has been deathly afraid of riding ever since.

You wouldn't have guessed that from the way she was riding. The trail went up, up, up on a fireroad. We were treated to a long descent after the climb topped out. The rolling hills were gorgeous with the Golden Gate Bridge peaking out behind them. I wasn't feeling as relaxed as I would have liked because I was scheduled to be at work in a few hours and there was a fair amount of unknown on the trail ahead of us.

I tried to focus on enjoying the long descent but I could see a climb across the valley that looked like it could be the one that would take us back to the vehicle. I would have been excited about the climb had I not been on my singlespeed. I felt anxious about making it to work on time. Would I have to walk my bike up that long hill?

The hill wasn't THAT bad and I made it to work in plenty of time. The best part of the experience was my friend was stoked. She had a great time! Wait 'til she rides a bike that fits her (mine was, at least, a size too big for her).

Bike Lust

I haven't noticed a lot of mountain bikes cruising the city streets. What I have noticed are the fixed gear track bikes that is the growing definition of 'hip' or 'cool' in the world of biking. I can't help but want one. I'm accustomed to being 'hip' and 'cool' in the sport after guiding mountain bike tours for years in the mountain biking mecca of the world. Whoah, easy on the ego, Drama Queen.

One of our new aquaintances attempted to save us from our lame mountain biker title by saying, "they ride singlespeeds." As if that is close enough. In an industry that continues to push extreme -- singlespeed is no longer extreme enough. We received a slight nod and a glance of acknowledgement but we were not invited into further conversation on the sport or anything else. We couldn't help but laugh at the hipster, ourselves, and the irony of the situation. I still want one of those damn bikes though. Either lavendar or bright orange with bright red rims. Yum!

East Bay Riding

We were seduced by the cool morning. It seemed like the perfect day to go for a mountain bike ride. Not that we would know. It had been months since we had actually been on a ride. But the Rooster and I were inspired by the cool morning and sunny sky. I slipped on my favorite bike skort. It was wrinkled but the Hawaiian print hadn't lost its bright shine. I chose a comfortable cotton shirt to match. I actually considered that I might be cold on the ride if I started to sweat too much. The guide book told me that the majority of the ride was shaded by the redwoods so it is often referred to as 'the perfect summer ride.'

The Rooster and I started our ride feeling giddy and full of glee. We rode, mostly down. Down, down, down. I was having flashes of the uphill that I knew would eventually come. Don't think about it. You'll be fine. Enjoy the moment. Because right now you are going down. Down. Down. Weeeeee. Yahhoooooo! This is so much fun. Eventually we got to a place that felt like it could be the bottom. Where are we?

I couldn't seem to find my connector trail to continue with my loop. I knew that I didn't want to go uphill extra, in the wrong direction, because I was going to have plenty of opportunity to go up based on that descent. We slowly went exploring. The Rooster was trying to catch his breath after the long descent. After noodling and backtracking a little we saw a man in a park uniform. I asked him where the trail I was looking for was and he pointed in the direction we needed to go. The guidebook hadn't said anything about the trail that he said we needed to take. I should know better than to trust a guidebook. I remember how many people I helped in Moab find there way after they had become lost through the guidance of a 'guidebook.'

We started to go up. I stopped a lot. It was the Roosters' turn to wait for me. He finally had the opportunity to catch his breath. I started to get hungry We hadn't been out here all that long. It just felt irresponsible not to have a snack. Why hadn't I packed a snack? A memory flashed in my head of Kyle stating the importance of bringing snacks for the dog. Shit. I didn't have any scooby snacks for the Rooster. I am such a bad mom. I comforted myself by thinking that he probably wouldn't be able to eat a snack even if I had one. He was panting endlessly. Where is all the shade that damn guide book talked about? Oh, yeah, it was on the long descent. That really long descent was completely shaded by the tall redwoods. Who the hell built this trail anyway? Don't they know that the climb should be in the shade and the descent in the sun. Gawd!!
It took us a while. Rooster trotted from shade to shade and I spinned from shade to shade. Eventually we were back at the truck. What a great ride! All the memories of snacks and worrying about getting lost fade into the depths of my memory. I'm just happy. Purely happy. I love riding my mountain bike. I look at the Rooster and say, "Next time lets start a little earlier Rooster, what do you think?" He looks at me and smiles, panting uncontrollably.

City Livin'

So. . .I live in the city now, after many years of living in the mountains and desert. I moved here for many reasons, one of which is to market my business. Although I live in the city I know that there is riding close to my house. However, I haven't been riding.

First, the trails were too wet. Then I was out of town for a month. Now I have no excuse. I need to get a map, lube my chain, and go ride. But here I sit. In my apartment with my computer on a nice sunny day. What is stopping me? Riding by myself? Maybe, but I've done that before. Not knowing where to ride? I love exploring. Out of shape? Probably, but no time like the present to get back in shape. Ugh!

There is no excuse and every excuse for not riding.

My First Mountain Bike

My first mountain bike was a purple fade Trek 830. I asked my parents to buy it for me for my birthday my Freshman year of College. I think it cost around $350.

The first ride I took it on was with this guy I was dating that wasn't at all 'my type.' We decided to ride our bikes around town. I remember trying to hop or jump a curb in an effort to get 'off-road'-- which was really just over to the grass -- because I had a mountain bike now. I totally jacked myself in the crotch. It hurt so bad. My female parts were throbbing in pain, not pleasure. Thankfully it passed rather quickly and I managed not to let the guy see what had happened, or so I remember.

My next ride on my new bike was with my friend Spinny. That was his nickname. He lived at the main party house and I have no recollection as to how we ended up going on a bike ride together. I think that he might have been dating my friend Katie.

Spinny and I ended up poaching some trails that went, what felt like, straight up. It should be noted that these events took place in Wisconsin. I realize that Wisconsin isn't mountainous or even well-known for having large hills. You will just have to trust me that this was in an area of the state where the glaciers came thru and cut many large hills. In the town where I went to school they were referred to as "bluffs."

I don't remember making it all that far in distance. I remember being out of breath and having a lot of fun. I learned that the ups led to the downs and that the downs were very fun. I also remember the large trees and the way the path (singletrack) weaved its way among them. It felt different from hiking among the trees. It was a rush. It was exhilarating! I liked it a lot.

What is Adventure Angels?


Adventure Angels is a business that provides adventure retreats for women. I created a business out of the things that I love. Mountain Biking, Trail Running, Hiking, Snowboarding, Snowshoeing, Yoga, Massage, Canyoneering, Whitewater Rafting, Camping, and Great Food. I plan and facilitate the trips and as an added benefit I get to meet intelligent, beautiful women.

Maybe it is selfish but it also keeps me inspired, active, and happy!

More to come!