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I Ride For Me

Trails are puzzles. I love to pick them apart one move at a time. I don’t get discouraged if I can’t clean them the first time, that just means I get to come back and try again later. The more challenging the trail, the more excited I get about riding. Maybe it was growing up watching No Way Rey videos or maybe it’s the difficulty of our local trails, but I can’t enough of the technical challenges. I don’t care if others can’t ride or even if I can’t clean it, if there’s an obstacle I’m going to try and ride it.

I ride for me.



I never look down at my front wheel. Looking down is to admit defeat regardless of how steep the hill is, how much sweat is dripping into my eyes making them burn or how much my legs are begging for relief. I don’t look down. Instead of looking down, I stomp on the pedals just that much harder. Slowing down isn’t relief, it only prolongs the suffering. Not that I don’t enjoy the suffering, because I do, but the KOM  is calling and I’m on my way there. Head up, eyes forward, legs stomping.

I ride for me.



I don’t consider myself a serious cyclist. I don’t wear Lycra and I don’t own a trainer. There is no speedometer on my handlebars telling me how slow I am going or how far I’ve pedaled. I prefer to get lost in the moment letting the trail take me wherever it is leading and I figure out how to get back when I hit the end. I can’t say I’ve ever been lost because I’ve always made it out, but there’s certainly plenty of times I ended up somewhere unexpected. I count those as good rides.

I ride for me.



The longest I’ve ever ridden my bike is 5 miles. I decided that getting to the post office wasn’t worth driving so I rode. I ride to the grocery store, the post office, down the street to visit the neighbors. I love to ride my bike. It’s one of those simple joys that immediately takes me back to my childhood and the first time I experienced the freedom of riding. I don’t care what people think when I load my groceries into my basket. I just feel bad that they have to get back in their cars.

I ride for me.


Sometimes I purposefully grab the wrong bike for the ride I’ve got planned. 30 miles of varied terrain including 10 of pavement, yup, I rode the fat bike. Heading to Brian Head to do shuttle runs with the DH guys sounds like a rigid hardtail ride to me. The last time I rode 50 miles on a drop bar bike was on some of the most rugged XC trails in the area. I finished the ride. I couldn’t stand up straight for a few days and my hands were so blistered I couldn’t use them, but it’s the one story everyone asks me to tell.

I ride for me.


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