This time of year I have a love/hate relationship with mountain biking and New England. I love them
both dearly but sometimes I forget how much.
I've been away from the alt.mt-b for a while now and away from riding for almost as long. Its all
started with me meeting a girl last spring and we all know how that can alter a person's riding
habits. Then we got hit with an ungodly cold and snowy winter here. All but the hardiest and most
committed riders were off their bikes from December until a couple of weeks ago.
This is where the love and hate start to come in.
I love the fact that New England has real seasons. Spring, summer, winter, and fall are all very
pronounced here. There's no blending one into the other. Sometimes, however, they last longer than
they're supposed to. I hate that. This winter lasted 14 years and it was cold. Real cold.
Spring is supposedly here although anyone who's lived here long enough knows not to trust it until
some time in June. Seeing my riding buddies various "season kick off" events started to get my
juices flowing again to ride but this bring us to another love and hate issue.
I hate the anticipation of the first rides of the season. How out of shape am I? Will I have a
chance in hell of keeping up with the people I could toast last season? Will I even remember my
favorite loop? Can my atrophied arms lift my bike over my head to put it on the roof rack?
After a couple of ugly rides where some of my worst fears were confirmed I decided to take advantage
of a gorgeous sunny day this week and load the bike onto the car for a post work ride, solo. I love
riding alone because I ride at my own pace. No stopping to wait for slow pokes. No extended [censored]
breaks. No discussions over which loop to ride or in what direction. I hate it because I have to
rely on my will power to get my lazy ass out on the trails after work. After all, there's no one
waiting for me at the trailhead and no one would know if I bagged in favor of a Friends rerun.
I managed to overcome my laziness and fears of a crappy ride in which I get lost on my regular loop
and have to ride out in the dark. I rode and rode well. the air was crisp, the sun was still
shining, the bugs have yet to begin their blood harvest, and I remembered my old loop with ease.
Its funny how all the things you worry about melt away when you ride. Everything goes away and its
just you and the trail. Even the worries about whether or not you can clear a log or roll a rock
disappear when you're grooving on a nice piece of singletrack. God I feel sorry for people who don't
do this. The love is back, baby. Bring it on!
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