Ever since the birth of mountain biking, we’ve been at odds with land managers, local businesses, manufacturers, and even – ourselves, regarding what is “proper” with trail access.
I’m hoping to stir the pot a bit, in search of factual statements and a vision for the future of riding. Perhaps, with a few people chiming in, we can share a collective understanding about the direction that we’d all like to go in, and those who have the courage to speak up will also have the courage to contribute time working on trails and in meetings with land managers and advocacy organizations like PTAG who work hard to listen and document the voice of each trail user group, going so far as to assign a dedicated steward for each park. After all, each person mountain biking on trails represents something to the public, whether we want it or not. We represent them, and they represent us.
I like this new trail a lot. I want to learn how to ride it well, and improve my arsenal of skills. We’ve all seen trails in different places with different features, and have our idea of what works and what doesn’t so its hard to claim who is right, but I think there are certain low hanging fruit that can be achieved without too much bureacracy: Water crossings (rivers, lakes, etc.) and fall-lines can offer some challenge but only seem to be sustainable when they are not adjoining a major trail network. In another post recapping my attendance at the IMBA World Summit, I heard Glen Jacob’s suggestion to be strategic about the placement of advanced features in increasing distance from the trailhead and it made sense to me. Extended trails require more fitness and skill, doubling the challenge and commitment to the trail, itself.
Not being much of a forum lurker, somehow the rumors about a new trail in my local park found their way into my life anyhow. And they’ve multiplied. Seemingly, everyone has a connection to this new trail and has heard something different about its history and its designers. There’s even old rumors resurfacing implying that none of the trails were vetted by the City – and this quite angered me, because I went to great lengths to clear this up and even applied for and received permits for mountain biking in the park. I was hoping that might set a trend to increase communication and legitimate park usage, but now its come to rumors.
Can we squash that, once and for all – and move forward? I had the unique opportunity of interning with the City and learned a lot about infrastructure and policy, and while I’m a mountain biker at heart, I wanted to use this information in a pro-active way, establishing relationships and clearing the air if possible. It turns out the confusion about limited access on singletrack was a misunderstanding, and when prompted, the City acknowledged that it needed to be cleared up and stressed the importance of keeping mountain bikers in the parks. After all, we contribute a lot of labor and aid in positive press within the community. Bike Pittsburgh remains an ally in bike advocacy, even for mountain bike issues such as this, and both the City and the Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy updated the language on their websites to acknowledge that each park has some power to “designate” which trails permit bicycles on them. I REALLY appreciate the transparency of these official authorities and only wish we could organize the same way amongst ourselves. This “us” identification is vague, especially for me, because I wear lots of hats and am spread pretty thin, as mountain biker, urban cyclist, coach, sometimes racer, sometimes advocate/lobbyist, sometimes leader. I plan on riding bikes the rest of my life, and I want to let the other advocates out there know that there are people out there like me, that take access very seriously and am willing to share the trails, the effort to retain access, offering a variety of types of trails to accommodate different levels of skill, and learn how make trails sustainable without sanitizing them.
I don’t want any more single track to turn into fire roads, which seems to happen when a trail becomes sanitized. Eventually, parks seem to close down as the cheapest solution. If the parks aren’t there anymore, is this the battle we want to fight?
Hilly Billy Roubaix
This is what happens when you put a “road” race on West Virginia’s rocky, rutted dirt and gravel roads: you get dozens of short, steep climbs on fairly technical terrain and not much road at all, actually. But, that might be a good thing if you like mountain biking or cyclocross… and you’re willing to put your mind, body and bike/soul through the ringer for 70+ miles. You land yourself with an unforgettable experience that you have to document, so please bear with me while I get this experience out of my head.
Yesterday, the racers’ turnout culminated from marketing to various cross-sections of the cycling community, which is probably a big reason I even considered going. Mountain bikes and cyclocross rigs had the advantage over skinny-tired carbon road bikes. Personally, I was on the fence regarding participating in it at all, because of scheduling and a lack of training. With recent job changes, the only riding I’ve done this year was commuting and a touch of touring – which turns out to be a decent amount of (loaded) mileage, but not anything over 50 miles in a day and not focussed on efficiency. After taking the fenders and rack off my steel ‘cross bike, putting on the aforementioned skinny tires and lightening the load; my bike started resembling a road machine last month. Was I ready to compete? I very much doubted it, but racing provides ride and reflection opportunities that are too fun to pass up, sometimes. And so, knowing it was going to hurt a lot, I committed to participating about 24 hours before the race and put the fat tires back on.
At the race site, I noticed other folks’ tires were actually smaller and softer than mine, and decided to take a test-run out in the gravel parking lot (thinking it was the worst conditions I might see, and therefore a safe data point). I took my PSI from 93% to 63% of the maximum recommended pressure on the WTB Interwolf tires I had, and am glad I did. A few times over the course of the day, I considered that the ride would be signifiicantly less harsh if I had taken out another 5%, but resolved that the frequency of flat-tire repairs I saw on the side of the “road” every hour negated any comfort:efficiency savings that could be had. I gave away my extra tubes and patches to the riders that had gone through their own supply, and was glad I had thought to bring extra. I ate all the extra GU and electrolyte blocks I had brought, in addition to 4 sample-sized raw vegan food bars at the rest stops and 1 jello shot, drank 2 bottles of electrolyte fluid and 3 of plain water. I peed with the 3 C’s, but that’s enough about data. Who will remember that stuff years from now, anyways? I took care of my body and didn’t bonk, ended up recovering pretty well, even feeling stronger a couple days later.
Within 4 miles of the race start, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Really. Wow, I should know better than to start out like that, when I haven’t trained my heart or my body for such efforts. I reminded myself that I was out to finish the race, not beat anyone. I also wanted to document it, because the stories I’d heard about last year’s event had inspired other riders I knew. A lot of people hadn’t finished at all last year, so I thought that was a fair goal despite the fact that I’ve never *not* finished a race that I started. And it was a bigger challenge than any other race I’ve entered. Every 10 minutes after those first four miles, I considered waiting for the sag wagon and flagging it down, bailing out. And I would reason with myself, “Will I DIE, if I continue?” Unless I couldn’t find a way to negotiate a “No.” answer with myself, I could continue. I ended up eliminating all possible excuses not to continue, and thereby justified unlimited amounts of pain, discomfort and confusion for the next several hours. I took breaks to take pictures (about 50), but didn’t have a single mechanical. I rode quite slow and steady (11mph ave.), but performed perfectly in the process and am satisfied – even impressed – with myself. It didn’t hurt that the course consisted of mostly dirt, either.
A few times, I would trade places or paceline with other riders on long stretches, and eventually passing a few. There were some people I never saw ahead of me and some people I never saw behind me – definitely more of the former, but I held my place after those first 4 miles, didn’t look back and only walked a couple sections when no one was looking. Keeping my promise not to die but finish instead, I took the gear of least resistance through 7:26hr for 75 miles and climbed the sarcastic hill of shame towards the finish, as the parking lot was beginning to empty before me. And yet, they continued to cheer. Thankfully, it got me the rest of the way across the finish line, to the bathroom and a cold beer, which I had been anticipating, the last hour.
Thank you ABRA, you delivered one of the best races I’ve ever had the opportunity to participate in. And congratulations to the 12 other women that participated in this race – you are truly bad-asses that I admire!
Here’s another race report from MJ.
