Mountain Biking 101

You’ve probably heard about Strava. You may not know much about it, but what you’ve heard is likely related to road cycling. Even so, you know some mountain bikers use Strava and wonder if it’s something you should consider using.

My short answer is, “Yes, you should, but only if you want to.”

My long answer is quite a bit more complicated. I did some research to try and find some “rules” for using Strava while mountain biking but couldn’t find much out there. That probably has a lot to do with mountain bike culture tending to shy away from setting hard rules. MTBing is all about getting out and having a great time.

I agree with this philosophy. In fact, I’m going to attempt to formulate a set of guidelines for using Strava while mountain biking that are all about not only getting the most out of your ride data while not getting overly serious about the whole thing and doing all you can to prevent negatively affecting the stoke of your fellow riders.

Disclaimer: I’m not setting out to formulate a real system of rules here—these are solely my personal opinions.

1. Strava Isn’t 100% Accurate

The first thing you’ve got to realize when using Strava to track your rides is this: don’t expect to get 100% accuracy. Yes, modern GPS tracking is highly-accurate, but there are a number of factors which will affect how well Strava records your ride.

First, realize that you’re weaving in, out, and among tree cover for most of your ride. Unlike a road ride where you’re often riding under open skies and your GPS unit has an unimpeded signal from the satellites, tree cover lowers the accuracy through simple signal degradation and blockage. Add to this the fact that you’re twisting and turning often, which is another factor that lowers the overall accuracy of tracking.

Second, your accuracy on Strava has a lot to do with the quality, sensitivity, and features of your GPS unit. If you’re a part of a cycling club or forum, you’ll often see members post questions like, “How long is this trail? I got 5.5 miles, but that doesn’t seem right.” Then you’ll see answers such as, “My GPS got 5.75 miles,” and “Mine got 5.3 miles.” Another user will pop in and say, “I got 6.1 miles and I use a wheel sensor with my unit.” Simply put, some GPS units are better than others, and the more feature-rich your GPS unit the higher the accuracy.

Third, placement of your GPS unit can play a role in how accurate your tracking will be. I tracked my rides for a long time just using the Strava app and built-in GPS on my iPhone—which I stuck in either a jersey back pocket or the pocket of my riding shorts. Later on, I got a bar mount for my phone and my ride data changed fairly significantly on my regular trail rides just because the phone was open to the sky. I’ve recently purchased a Wahoo Elemnt Bolt that’s mounted on an out-front bar attachment and my data has shifted in accuracy again—especially in elevation data since the Bolt has a barometric altimeter built in. I’ll eventually add the speed and cadence sensors (and perhaps the heart rate monitor) for even higher accuracy.

2. No One Else Cares About Your Strava

Seriously, no one else cares.

OK, well maybe your closest riding buddies care, and perhaps your significant other might care (or at least patiently act like they care), and maybe your Mom cares (if she even knows what you’re talking about). Otherwise, no one else really cares about all that data you’re collecting, or that you set 19 PRs on your last ride, or that you sniped a KOM on a segment of your favorite trail. (Well…the person you took the KOM from cares.)

In the end, all that data you’re collecting is for you and pretty much no one else. I’m a huge fan of Strava for many reasons, but all of those reasons have to do with personal progress and satisfaction. These are the reasons I think you should use Strava—so that you have a record of what trails you rode, when you rode them, and how you’re improving over time.

Listen, I’m not a highly-competitive person by nature, but I understand the mindset. Some of you are competitive, and there’s absolutely no reason you shouldn’t use Strava to push yourself to beat the times you see recorded on the trails—in fact, I think the entire purpose of KOMs/QOMs is to encourage competition. I also think it’s fun to follow my friends and compare my times to theirs. Most of my friends on Strava have been mountain biking far longer than me and are in much better shape, so their Strava times are still twice as fast (often more) than mine. So, I have a long way to go to catch up, but it’s fun to see how far I’ve progressed. There was a day when my times were three or four times slower than my friends, so getting to the point where I’m only half as fast is a very fun achievement.

But again, no one cares but me. Sure, I’ll get kudos from my friends when I complete a ride, and congratulatory comments when I have a great ride and set a bunch of PRs. That’s fun, encouraging, and another great reason to use Strava. My friends and I can share experiences and build each other up. Which leads to the next rule.

3. It’s Not a Race…Unless It Is

One of the reasons this list was inspired was due to the sometimes bad behavior and reputation of a select few cyclists. As with any sport, there’s a small segment of participants that are so highly-competitive that nothing else matters. They live for the win. They live for crushing the competition. They live to prove they’re better than someone else.

OK, that’s cool, but most of us don’t care. (See rule #2 above.) None of the rides we go on at our local trails are races, so getting passed by someone else is just par for the course—especially if you’re and older, slower, “fluffier” rider like me. Dude, I’m just happy I made it out on my bike and I’m more than willing to pull over and let you pass me, just don’t be a jerk about it.

Don’t be the type that rips around a corner and yells “Strava!” every time you come up on a slower rider. (There’s a name for people like that.) It’s not a race, and the other trail users aren’t your competition. Go out and make friends with those slower riders, show them how to become an awesome rider like you, and show them how to have a good time. They might even show up to your next real race and cheer you on.

4. Strava Is Never an Excuse for Bad Behavior

Tied directly to rule #3, don’t ever forget proper trail etiquette in an effort to gain a new PR or win a KOM. Below is a short—but not exhaustive—list of bad behaviors sometimes witnessed among those who place Strava above all else:

• Rudely passing slower riders.
• Intimidating slower riders by following too closely.
• Failing to stop and help riders in need.
• Refusing to yield properly to other trail users (hikers, etc.).
• Leaving the trail to pass a slower rider.
• Riding around, not through, wet or muddy sections and thus widening the trail.
• Cutting bandit shortcuts (more on this in rule #5).
• Tossing food wrappers and other trash along the trail.
• Not properly controlling your bike and causing erosive damage to the trail surface.
• Riding a closed trail so that no other riders will “get in your way.”

5. Never Fake Your Strava

I’ll never understand it, but there are always those who think cheating makes them look better or makes them feel like they’ve achieved something real. It may surprise you, but there are those who will use underhanded means to fool Strava into making their rides look better—even to the point of stealing other rider’s KOMs.

Seriously, don’t do this. You didn’t earn it. You don’t deserve it.

While I still believe rule #1 above is true, the fact remains that someone does care about their Strava achievements—namely the person who won the achievement. They worked hard to earn it and you’re a jerk if you take it from them without working equally hard, if not harder.

Another way to fake your Strava is to use “alternate” lines on the trail. This doesn’t mean that if a trail has two legitimate options—such as a bypass around a technical feature—that your Strava doesn’t count if you took the easier line. That’s no big deal, especially since bypasses are typically the slower line anyway. The problem is when you create your own lines to shorten or dumb down the trail in an effort to shave a few seconds off of your total time.

What does this achieve? Cutting your own lines—known as Strava lines, cheater lines, sissy lines, snowflake lines, etc.—is just another form of cheating, another form of trying to win something unearned. Not only that, it’s simply bad behavior. Cutting your own lines damages the trail. Don’t do it.

6. If You Ride an E-bike, Mark Your Ride Appropriately

E-bikes are somewhat controversial within the American mountain biking scene. While they’ve gained wide acceptance in Europe and other parts of the world, e-bikes are still frowned upon in most local circles. This post isn’t about bringing up that debate again, but rather encouraging you to properly record e-bike usage on Strava.

Similar to #5, use of an e-bike to post up ride achievements is a form of cheating. Yes, I said it. Using an e-bike to take KOMs/QOMs is cheating.

Why? Because it gives you an unequal advantage over other riders. Yes, rule #1 still applies, but so does rule #5.

There’s a simple fix to this—simply mark your ride as an “E-bike Ride.” The problem is that this isn’t as easy as selecting “ride” or “run” in the app. For now, the easiest solution seems to be just record your ride on Strava an usual, then edit the ride and change the ride type to “E-bike.” This will take your ride off of any regular ride leaderboards and place your ride into an e-bike specific category. Hopefully Strava will make it easier to record e-bike rides in the future, but for now it’s solely your responsibility to police your own rides and mark them appropriately.

If you know of an easier way to mark e-bike rides in Strava, please let me know in the comments.

7. Think Before You Use Strava on Certain Trails

Not every ride should be recorded, or at least not every ride should be made public. You should learn how to mark some rides private depending on the type of trail you ride. Why? Here are a few considerations:

• Don’t Expose Secret Trails: What? There are secret trails out there? How do I find them? How can I ride them? Well, that’s the point—these trails are secret and should stay that way—just like Seth’s Bike Hacks explains during his ride in Hawaii. Many of these trails are open by invitation only (I know about one such secret trail here in North Texas myself, and no I won’t tell you about it), so recording your ride on Strava and making it public exposes the trail location in ways the land manager or trail stewards may not want. Public rides on Strava also show up on the Strava Global Heat Map, making trail locations discoverable by users curious enough to snoop around their local area. Exposing and riding secret trails without invitation is a good way to ensure that trail disappears permanently.
• Private Trails May Need to Stay Private: While it’s doubtful you’re going to expose a top secret military base, you should pay attention to whether or not to mark your ride as private if you’re riding a private trail. If it’s a private trail that’s open to the public—especially if you have to pay an entrance fee of some sort—then marking your ride public is probably no big deal. However, if you’ve received an invitation out to a private ranch or trail, find out from the owner if they’d prefer you mark the ride as private. Doing so will help prevent hundreds of other rides from showing up and begging to ride on private land—or worse yet, illegally trespassing on their land.
• Don’t Use Strava on Bandit Trails: I’m not going to make a statement about whether or not you should ride bandit trails—that risk is on you. However, if you do ride bandit trails, don’t make your ride public. Why? Simply because some bandit trails are allowed to exist because their traffic is kept low. Some entities—such as municipalities or counties—are willing to turn a blind eye to a handful of riders taking their bikes out to ride through the trees every once in a while. The problem comes if suddenly dozens or hundreds of riders start showing up. Then the land managers have to start being concerned with land rights, erosion, liability, and much more which will eventually end up getting the bandit trail shut down. Keep your bandit trail riding to yourself.

8. Have Fun!

Above all, remember why you started mountain biking. If Strava is somehow preventing you from finding regular joy on your rides, then you’re doing something wrong. If that’s you, turn off the phone or bike computer and just ride. Recapture that feeling you originally had when rolling your tires over dirt—the experience that made you want to come back for more. Invite some friends to join you. Invite new riders into the sport, lead them well, and teach them how to have fun.

Isn’t that what mountain biking is really all about?

I had yet another super weekend of trail-filled fun. My son and I were fortunate enough to ride two different trails and experience two different events this weekend. We went north to the 1st Annual Cross Timbers Backcountry Bikefest on Saturday, then headed to Horseshoe on Sunday to help out at the DORBA Beginner Clinic.

Bikefest @ Cross Timbers

If you missed Bikefest on March 17-18, 2019, you missed the North Texas mountain bike event of the spring—if not the year. In celebration of the 50th anniversary of a Cross Timbers—a fantastic NTX trail—Greg Broussard and company planned and executed a fantastic event that brought together a great cross-section of the North Texas mountain biking scene.

Seriously, it was a great day with tons of support from DOBRA (including free food prepped by Chef Nick Castro himself) and NTX MTB (some of the most friendly and laid-back MTBers you’ll ever meet), free parking and use of the facilities by Cedar Bayou Marina, and a great show of support from half a dozen or more area bike shops and repair services (RBM, Mad Duck, Cadence, REI, Ray Jay’s, Miles Mobile, and more).

There were groups rides, hundreds of riders, giveaways, bike demos (my son got to grab a Giant Trance from Cadence for the afternoon group ride), free grub, free repairs, giveaway swag, and lots and lots of stoke to be had. I can’t imagine the sheer amount of work it took to put this together. Greg Broussard deserves tons of praise for his vision and action to put it all together.

Special kudos go to Jim Branson, Jim Hall, and all the others who spent countless hours on trail work. Listing to Jim Hall describe some of the work they put in was really humbling. The long and short of it is that they essentially repaired miles and miles of erosion to get the trail back into a state somewhat similar to what it was in its heyday. It sounds like they hauled in a ton of dirt by hand to fill in cracks, crevices, and shore up eroded sections to make the trail more approachable for unfamiliar riders.

Beyond the work involved, there’s something you need to understand about Cross Timbers trail. Yes, the trail remains one of the toughest in all of North Texas—and it’s not for the faint of heart—but it’s actually not as bad as you might think. If you can somewhat comfortably and confidently ride trails such as Waterloo, Binkley, or especially Northshore, then you should really give Cross Timbers a try.

Honestly, the most difficult thing on the trail when you head west from Cedar Bayou Marina toward the Lost Loop/Found Loop split is climbing. Even both Lost and Found Loops get their difficulty rating mostly from climbing rather than technical features or exposure.

Make no mistake, the further west you travel the trail the gnarlier it gets with increased exposure, tech sections, and mandatory drops. On top of all this, if you head east from the marina and make for Juniper Point you’ll experience what is possibly the most difficult and dangerous section of trail in North Texas—a segment some rate as a double black diamond.

Don’t let any of this scare you off from making the drive to Gordonville and giving Cross Timbers a try—though I recommend NOT going alone. I still struggle quite a bit as a rider—especially with cardio-intensive climbing—and I made it to Lost Loop and back without any trouble beyond breathing hard. I would have done more milage but wanted to be sure and save plenty of legs for Horseshoe the next day. In retrospect, I honestly wish I had gone for it and done both Lost and Found Loops. I’m pretty sure I would have been just fine.

I’m already looking forward to next year, but something tells me I’ll be back at Cross Timbers long before then.

Beginner Clinic @ Horseshoe

The next day would prove to be just as much of an adventure, just not in the way that was planned—and that’s a good thing!

Similar to our previous experience helping out at a beginner clinic, my son and I headed out to Horseshoe after church, eager to help newbies gain confidence and get hooked on mountain biking.

We arrived at the trail before the class began and were able to let the clinic leader, Jerry, know we were there to help. This month’s clinic was much smaller than the previous one—with only 20-something folks in attendance. On top of that, the previous clinic probably had close to a dozen volunteers while this month there were only three.

Yep, including me and my son. A grand total of three.

“No big deal,” I told myself. I figured the group was small enough that we could ride out in one group with Jerry in the lead, my son in the middle, and me sweeping the back. (Have I mentioned I’m a fairly slow rider?) It wasn’t until after the run through the obstacle course—while I was helping an attendee with a mechanical issue—that I heard Jerry utter the words, “We’ll split into two groups.”

Yep, do the math. That meant Jerry would lead one and I was probably going to lead the other.

Wait a minute…I only showed up to sweep not lead a ride. I’m not qualified, competent enough, or experienced enough to lead a group of beginners. I’ve only been riding trails for two years…

Yeah, those were the thoughts running through my head, but there were only two options available: Step up and lead or pack up and run away.

Long story short, I’m glad I stepped up. I found myself pushed out of my comfort zone, putting everything I’ve learned on the bike over the last two years into practice. Never mind the fact that there are a couple of climbs at Horseshoe I’ve yet to conquer. Never mind that I’ve only cleaned some of the features at Horseshoe once or twice.

There’s something magical about being forced to teach or demonstrate a skill. I was careful to point out to my group that the possibility for failure was high whenever I  demonstrated how to navigate certain trail features. In the same breath I made sure to tell them that it’s worth the risk to go for it and that there was also no shame in failing while making the attempt. I also assured them there was no shame in walking the bike and living to try again another day.

Several in my group rose to the challenges and attempted some of the technical features. While my group was supposed to be the “non-technical” group, I wanted them to see every inch of the trail and be given the opportunity to try every feature. We fell, we failed, we succeeded, we ended up caked in mud, and we laughed and smiled all the way to the end of the trail.

I’m confident most or all of my group will be back on the trail soon. Not because I’m a great teacher, but because I encouraged them to keep trying. Because I kept repeating the phrase I tell myself all the time. “The more you ride the better this stuff will get.”

Before we were back to the trailhead, several members of my group were asking where to find other good trails for their skill level. I told them about a few they should try out and made a point to direct them to the DORBA website and app. Since I was essentially acting as a de facto representative of DORBA at the time, I made absolutely no mention of this website.

Along the way we met up with a fellow rider named Kyle who asked what we were up to, then decided to join us the rest of the way through the trail. When we offered to move aside and let him through he declined, saying his legs were tired. When I asked if he was on his second or third lap he replied, “My seventh.”

This young man was really a fantastic addition to our group. He caught up with us just as we were approaching the most technical bits and steepest climbs at Horseshoe. When I was unable to show the group how to conquer a feature, Kyle humbly rose to the occasion and showed us all how it was done. When it was all said and done, he joined us back to the trailhead and mentioned he would probably try to volunteer for some clinics in the future.

Kyle and his wife wanted to do one more lap of the whole trail, so my son and I joined in. We had a fun time blasting through the trail, and Kyle’s pace pushed my limits— enough so I let myself get dropped. After leading the clinic group I was more in a mode to just get a solid ride and not worry about being super fast. Wouldn’t you know it, as has happened on my rides before, when I focused on simply having fun I ended up not only having a great ride but set several PRs in the process. That second lap was almost ten minutes faster than my previous record.

I highly encourage those of you who are experienced riders to come out and volunteer at one or more of these beginner clinics. Not only is it another great way to give back to the sport, support your local club, and encourage others to get off the couch, but you can also be of great benefit to these new riders. Sharing your knowledge skills will encourage newbies more than you can imagine, so I challenge you to come out and lend a hand as often as you can.

Next up is Rowlett Creek Preserve on Wednesday. I’m so glad it’s finally (partially) open, and I’m going to carve out some time to hit it before the rains shut it down again.

I recently had a pretty terrible ride. It was so bad that I was actively saying things to myself during the ride like, “Why are you doing this?” “This sucks.” “You should just give up.” It was so bad that I ended up losing my lunch about halfway through the ride—not because I felt sick but from the sheer beatdown I was receiving.

Later that day, I saw a friend’s activity on Strava where he just gotten off his own beatdown. He’d commented on his own ride to say, “Some days you’re the hammer, some days you’re the nail.”

Look, I’m not a great rider. Yeah, I love mountain biking—my family and close friends would say I’m obsessed with it. I didn’t start NTX Trails in an attempt to portray myself a super-experienced rider or mega-shredder, but rather to encourage new riders and support North Texas trails. The truth is I’ve only been riding for about two years, haven’t progressed as quickly as I’d like or as quickly as other riders I know who started about the same time I did, and I’m still quite a bit overweight and out of shape.

It’s when I have horrible rides that I have to remind myself why I ride.

The Worst Ride Ever

OK, the idea that my ride a few weeks ago was “the worst ride ever” is definitely an exaggeration. I’ve had far worse rides, including one at Frisco where I went OTB on Wolverine and was so overwhelmed by the combination of the heat and the crash that I was pretty confused for a while and had to walk/slow ride my bike out along the fire road. Then there was that time early in my MTB excursions that I went OTB on a really easy feature at Corinth and slammed my back into a tree. I laid there for several minutes fairly certain I’d broken something. I hadn’t, and thankfully those are my worst crashes to date. And I also remember my first time at Erwin Park and getting dropped like a rotten potato during a no-drop shop ride.

Obviously I recovered from those rides and just kept going. In fact, at the time of those crashes I was most frustrated about the recovery time necessary to feel like I could get back on the bike—a matter of a few days in both cases. So, what made the ride at Waterloo recently so bad that I had stray thoughts during the drive home of giving it all up and selling my bike?

Most of the issues had to do with fitness. Like a lot of North Texas riders over recent months, I’ve had little opportunity to ride trail due to the historic amounts of rain. The trails have been closed for months on end, and even though I was getting increased mileage on road rides I really wasn’t prepared for the climbs at Waterloo that day.

The greater issue I now believe after some time of reflection is my mental approach to the ride—my expectations. You see, I’ve now been riding long enough that I’ve gotten into a bit of a mindset of thinking I should be riding at a certain level by now. That day at Waterloo I came in with the idea that I’d be able to really crush the ride, based on my recent performance at a few other area trails like Horseshoe. The truth is, since I’d only ridden the Denison-based trail a couple of times and those rides had been several months ago, I’d forgotten the level of climbing ahead of me. Again, for seasoned riders with decent fitness, Waterloo is probably an easy pedal. I’m not at that level yet.

This was magnified by an unforeseen opportunity in the parking lot. We met another rider—a super nice guy—who is very familiar with the trail. He asked if we had been on the new Church Loop yet and offered to guide us through. Of course we took him up on the offer and took off down the trail. It was soon apparent when climbing Upper Bluffs that I wasn’t doing well. Our new friend was pushing the pace, though I’m sure he was going very, very slow compared to his own average pace. I was struggling and already beyond tired. The worst was yet to come as we hit the unfamiliar climbing on the new loop.

Come to find out later, our guide is an amazing cyclist with skills, fitness, and Strava times well above even the best riders in the area. In hindsight, part of my ride-induced depression was due to my subconscious comparison of myself against him. I couldn’t know it at the time, but there’s no way I’d be able to keep up with him on my best day in the some future when I have more skill, stamina, and fitness.

I’m vividly reminded of the old saying, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” And it was so true that day. I was comparing myself against some ideal of where I should be as a rider, and comparing myself against another rider who could easily be classified as a Cat 1 cyclist, all of which I allowed to completely steal away the simple joy and pleasure of riding dirt.

The Confidence Booster

The very next day my son and I loaded up in preparation to help out with the DORBA beginner clinic at Horseshoe. I’ll admit that I only went at first out of a sense of obligation because I’d said I’d show up and help sweep one of the groups. I did my best to approach the day with a good attitude, but honestly I was dreading the ride ahead because of how poorly the previous day’s ride had gone. We loaded up, attended church, then headed out to the trail.

Once there, it was really great to hang out off to the side while the sit-down “classroom” portion of the clinic was going on. I got to talk to several seasoned, long-time DORBA members, some of which had helped create some of the trails we all get to ride and love. They accepted me as one of the MTB family and didn’t care how well I rode my bike, just that I showed up, loved to ride, and wanted to contribute. Once the class was over I even got to meet the Fat Bastard (don’t judge me, that’s the name of his YouTube channel) and tell him how encouraging his videos have been.

We set out with the beginners+ group, a set of people who’d indicated they weren’t absolute beginners and were open to sessioning some of the features Horseshoe had to offer. It was clear within just a few yards of our ride that a few among the group were completely unprepared for what was to come. Meanwhile, as the dude helping sweep at the very back of the pack (partnering with a seasoned rider who treated me as an equal) I was soon encouraged by just how far I’d come as a rider in the last two years.

In fact, the further we progressed through the trail the more my confidence rose. I did my best to not compare myself to these green riders but keep reminding myself that I once struggled in the same way and had some of the same problems the members of this beginner group were exhibiting. Seriously, I’d forgotten how hard it can be for an inexperienced rider to simply keep the bike upright on tight turns through the trees. I’d forgotten the importance of body position and how radically my own riding had improved since my early days of riding stiffly and not knowing how to attack climbs, rocks, roots, turns, and rollers.

By the time the ride was over, I had a huge smile on my face—despite breaking a chain during a climb and getting left behind. Actually, even getting left behind was a pretty fun experience because it confirmed I’m self-sufficient enough to be able to repair my bike and catch up with the group within a few minutes. I had a blast bombing down the trail as fast as I could to catch up. Having the ability and confidence to make the run with enough speed to pass a bunch of other riders on the trail what a giant confidence booster as well. By the end of the afternoon I’d conquered some climbs and techy sections I’d never cleaned before and drove away looking forward to riding again another day.

The Redemption Ride

With my enthusiasm returned, my son and I went to Waterloo again as soon as it dried out from the latest rains. We went with the intention of putting fun first, which meant skipping the dreaded Church Loop on purpose, and simply riding at an easy pace until we ran out of light. After discovering that we could get some speed on the rollers on Woodlands Loop and catch some air during a previous ride, we decided to start there and rode that loop three times simply for the fun of it.

From there we rode back up the road and hit the main loop. With no agenda other than fun I found my mindset was such that I could approach the ride completely differently. The climb up Upper Bluffs felt easier, and though out of breath at the top I didn’t need to take as long of a break before I was ready to go again. Soon I was pedaling up the rocky levy climb and clearing it for the first time as well.

We ran out of light and called it a day after another run through the Woodlands Loops jump line, driving back home full of fun and joyful memories.

Why I Ride

So this brings me back full circle. In the span of nine days I’d gone from wanting to give up MTB altogether to having the time of my life on the very same trail. What changed?

It’s all about remembering why I ride.

I still vividly remember my very first trail ride in 2017 at the DORBA beginner clinic at River Legacy. If you’ve ridden that trail, you know that it’s mostly flat and almost completely non-technical unless you ride EKG/AED. The clinic leader took us on the easiest route possible, which includes a couple of punchy little climbs at the beginning of the trail, but nothing too dramatic. We played around at Fun Town for a while, then rode the rest of the trail back to the parking lot. I remember telling my closest friend—a seasoned cyclist and mountain biker—that it was the most fun I’d had in a long time and couldn’t wait to do it again.

From there I rode safe and easy trails as often as I could—mainly Frisco and Corinth—pushing my limits a little more each time, but focusing on just getting out and having fun. In those days I didn’t care about the fact that I knew people who could ride those trails cleanly in a fraction of my fastest time, I simply enjoyed the feeling of dirt beneath my tires and the freedom of winding through trees.

I didn’t care that there were much harder trails out there that I couldn’t ride yet. I knew I’d eventually get there and try them out.

I now remember my latest ride at Waterloo with my son and my closest friend. We did the whole thing—Church Loop included—and had a great time just hanging out together. That ride happened just days after learning my brother had passed away. The ride was soul-refreshing to me on a whole new level.

Fun and freedom. Joy and life. Friends and family.

That’s what I needed to recapture and is now my new primary riding goal for this year. I have other goals in mind such as my desire to be able to ride all of Waterloo cleanly without needing rest breaks. I’d also like to be able to confidently ride all of Northshore East by the end of the year—not necessarily clean the whole thing but rather just not feel exhausted by the time I’m done. But I’m in no huge hurry to reach those goals and won’t be overly disappointed if I don’t accomplish those goals this year. Instead, I’m just going to go out and ride as much as possible, push myself a bit more each time, have tons of funs, and let my technical abilities and fitness progress naturally.

Yes, I do want to someday be able to ride Northshore West, Sansom, and Cross Timbers. Yes, I do want to get skilled enough to eventually make regular trips to Northwest Arkansas. Yes, I want to eventually bomb down the blacks at Spider Mountain. Yes, riding The Whole Enchilada is on my bucket list.

But I’m done with comparing myself with other riders—especially those far more skilled and experienced than me. I’m done with thinking that I should be better than I am now. I’m over approaching a trail with trepidation knowing that I’m going to struggle on particular segments.

Instead, I’m going to focus on the joy of riding with my son, with friends, or even alone. I’m going to continue to be inspired by the 70+-year-olds that I’ve met on trails like Rowlett Creek and Isle du Bois as I approach 50. I’m going to keep working on this website to encourage and support riders old and new. I’m going to keep inviting friends to come out and ride with me—both experienced friends that can easily leave me in the dust and beginner friends that will struggle as I once did.

I doesn’t matter how your last ride went. Had a bad ride? Join the club. We all have, and will have more in the future. Just keep pedaling because I bet the next ride will be better. You’ll have far more good days on the bike than bad. In fact, there’s another old saying that’s true, “A bad day on a mountain bike always beats a good day at the office/on the couch.”

Ride for fun. Ride for joy. Ride for yourself.

Just keep riding!