Last week, I went on my first off-road mountain-biking experience. Like most things that I get myself into, I had no idea what I was in for. When I was 12, I used to do bunny hops, wheelies, track stands and other popular BMX stunts popular with the neighbourhood boys. At least, I think I tried to execute some pathetic semblance of those tricks. Frankly, I think I only imagined I did those bike stunts. It probably looked more like a chubby kid looking weird on a BMX. I never thought I would ever, ever, ever have to try and do those things again in my mid-thirties.
I bought a second-hand mountain bike off a friend who was going away for a few years. It was a decent 3-year-old GT Avalanche for RM500 (~USD125). I’m told it’s a very decent bike (I know very little about bikes. They are meant to be hopped on and pedalled away. Period). Two days after I wheeled it in, I took it out for what would’ve turned out to be a 120-kilometre ride if I had completed it. It had a wonky back wheel, under-pumped tires, and the last time I did any serious cycling, I was not old enough to drive.
Obviously, I had no idea what I was doing.
That was last September. I’ve cycled over 900km on-road since. Closer to 1,000 actually.
Back to my off-road experience. It was in a quarry. There was a lot of getting off and pushing the bike; a lot more huffing, puffing and some wheezing. And then it was speeding downhill on a rocky road with a high chance of flying off your bike and doing a superwoman into a ditch. My first downhill slope scared the living daylights out of me. I had to come off the bike and push. It scared me even more when one adventure buddy hurtled pass me in a blur and kissed the rocks on the ground.
But, you’re off-road, it’s a long trail. It gets tiresome to push your bike, especially downhill. You get fed up and you tell yourself what the hey, just go for it. The more earthy of us went “SH*&#T!!” I’m more religious. I went “SHHHHHHH*#^$^#P$$TTTTT!” first and then “Thank you, Lord” when I reached the bottom in one piece. Essentially, it was a matter of hanging on for dear life. But what fun. And what freedom. I now understand the true effect of adrenaline a lot more. There’s always an element of fear, but then you face that and the adrenaline is like a drug.
And then you’re free.
But on my last and steepest downhill hanging on to dear life jobbie, I struck the beginnings of what I call mountain biking zen. I realized then that off-roading is a lot like life:
1. If you look at all the pebbles and rocks right in front when you’re going downhill, you’re more likely to fall off unnecessarily. Look ahead at the bigger picture, aim for where you want to be, hang on, keep your balance, and you’ll reach your destination.
2. You can’t sit on your behind all the time. Sometimes, very often, you need to stand up on your pedals or pedal very hard in order to stay on the bike, or to make your ride smoother.
3. Going uphill is a real slog, but no matter how slow you get, as long as you pedal and keep your balance, you’re unlikely to fall off.
4. It’s OK to get off and push. We all need a little help from time to time.
5. Experienced mountain bikers often look cool, tough and intimidating because they have skills. And they look….cool. But once you get into the thick of things, they are approachable, good people. Some are even teddy bears. Don’t judge books by their covers, even adventure thrillers.
6. You don’t really need to train yourself to go off-road. The off-roading itself is the training. Pre-offroad training in the gym, on-road, etc. helps, but they are not the real thing.
7. People are kind. They will encourage you. They will make jokes. But they are kind. How you act or react to them is entirely your choice.
8. There will always be fear. If you don’t meet it head on, you’re not going to finish the course.
9. Adrenaline rocks. It’s also scary. Every time.
10. You test your faith all the way. You’re also better off competing with yourself and enjoying that
Will I go off-road again? Very likely.
Will I be scared? Indubitably. Scared beyond belief.
Will I have fun? Isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that life?
N.B. The Wordsmith has gone off-road twice since writing this. Each off-road experience is
different from the next and brings with it different life lessons and zen realizations.
