M
Monique Y. Mudama
Guest
Tuesday was a hell-day at work for me. By the time I left work to drive to
Betasso, I was so filled with stress and frustration that I'm sure I had a
visible cloud of purple and black energy surrounding me. I had *had* it. I
needed to get out of there before I hurt something or someone.
I got the last real parking space (people creatively "discover" alternate
spaces all the time) and saddled up. Betasso is a 3.5 mile loop of smooth,
twisty singletrack. Mountain bikers follow the arrows; right now, it's
counter clockwise, starting and ending on downhills.
This was the third time I'd come to Betasso planning to do three laps. The
first time, mechanical issues cut me down to one miserable lap. The second
time, a storm came in during the second lap. Tuesday, though, the sun shone
bright, the clouds were on vacation, and I could tell it would be a great day
to ride.
Hesitation marked the beginning of my first lap; my body and mind were still
contorted with the stress of the day, and I braked hard before every water
dip, sharp turn, and other perceived obstacles. I fought the bike and the
terrain rather than working with it. I stopped once for just a second or two,
to let a rider by, but otherwise cleaned it.
I loosened up by the second lap, got in a rhythm, felt pretty good. A guy
following me complimented me on my steady pace through a climb before moving
on past me. I took the downhills and the turns faster; in fact, I lost
traction turning through some coarse sand, but I managed to keep it together.
No dabs, no stops, just a nice, solid ride.
The third lap, it all came together. Rather than grabbing the brakes before
water dips, I slid my butt back behind the seat and kept my body low. This
good behavior was rewarded; ordinarily, my body flies up a bit over these, but
on that lap, I stayed in control and close to the bike. I took the turns and
descents faster than I ever have before. For the first time ever, I felt the
sweet sensation of leaning through the curves at a bit of speed, trusting my
skills to see me through. Yes, the climbs were noticably more difficult on
this third lap, but that just made the top of every rise a sweet victory to be
treasured. My only dab was caused by the sight of a surprisingly
light-colored deer; I slowed down so much to glimpse her through the trees
that I had to put a foot out to keep from tipping over.
Only one thing marred my final lap: a guy who kept riding my tail without passing.
In the quarter-mile or so before the toughest climb of the loop, he had plenty
of opportunities to pass or speak up, but he didn't say a word, instead opting
to pant along behind me. I picked up the pace a bit to give myself room
during the climb, but that didn't work; shortly after the start of the climb,
I realized he'd glued himself to my rear wheel. My line weaves around quite
a bit on this section, so his dedication to my bumper had me a bit nervous.
Eventually, I heard a slight commotion and some mild cursing -- I had to watch
my line, so I didn't look back. Swooped down some fun turns, and sure enough,
approaching the next climb, the ass-hugger is back. "Could you *please* just
pass me?" I finally ask; he says, "Yeah; I'm sorry," and during a section wide
enough for four to ride abreast, he finally rides past me, whereupon he
immediately disappears into the distance. Fine. After my ride, I spoke to a
woman who'd been walking with a friend and their dogs; on the final descent,
he didn't bother braking at all as he flew by them, no word of warning and
nearly clipping one of the dogs. Nice.
In summary, it was a great, much-needed ride. I finally did three laps (and would
have gone for four had dusk not been approaching); I had some skill/confidence
break-throughs; I worked out some angry energy and came home in a much better
mood than I'd had when I left the office. It was a Good Ride.
--
monique
"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live."
-- Mark Twain
Betasso, I was so filled with stress and frustration that I'm sure I had a
visible cloud of purple and black energy surrounding me. I had *had* it. I
needed to get out of there before I hurt something or someone.
I got the last real parking space (people creatively "discover" alternate
spaces all the time) and saddled up. Betasso is a 3.5 mile loop of smooth,
twisty singletrack. Mountain bikers follow the arrows; right now, it's
counter clockwise, starting and ending on downhills.
This was the third time I'd come to Betasso planning to do three laps. The
first time, mechanical issues cut me down to one miserable lap. The second
time, a storm came in during the second lap. Tuesday, though, the sun shone
bright, the clouds were on vacation, and I could tell it would be a great day
to ride.
Hesitation marked the beginning of my first lap; my body and mind were still
contorted with the stress of the day, and I braked hard before every water
dip, sharp turn, and other perceived obstacles. I fought the bike and the
terrain rather than working with it. I stopped once for just a second or two,
to let a rider by, but otherwise cleaned it.
I loosened up by the second lap, got in a rhythm, felt pretty good. A guy
following me complimented me on my steady pace through a climb before moving
on past me. I took the downhills and the turns faster; in fact, I lost
traction turning through some coarse sand, but I managed to keep it together.
No dabs, no stops, just a nice, solid ride.
The third lap, it all came together. Rather than grabbing the brakes before
water dips, I slid my butt back behind the seat and kept my body low. This
good behavior was rewarded; ordinarily, my body flies up a bit over these, but
on that lap, I stayed in control and close to the bike. I took the turns and
descents faster than I ever have before. For the first time ever, I felt the
sweet sensation of leaning through the curves at a bit of speed, trusting my
skills to see me through. Yes, the climbs were noticably more difficult on
this third lap, but that just made the top of every rise a sweet victory to be
treasured. My only dab was caused by the sight of a surprisingly
light-colored deer; I slowed down so much to glimpse her through the trees
that I had to put a foot out to keep from tipping over.
Only one thing marred my final lap: a guy who kept riding my tail without passing.
In the quarter-mile or so before the toughest climb of the loop, he had plenty
of opportunities to pass or speak up, but he didn't say a word, instead opting
to pant along behind me. I picked up the pace a bit to give myself room
during the climb, but that didn't work; shortly after the start of the climb,
I realized he'd glued himself to my rear wheel. My line weaves around quite
a bit on this section, so his dedication to my bumper had me a bit nervous.
Eventually, I heard a slight commotion and some mild cursing -- I had to watch
my line, so I didn't look back. Swooped down some fun turns, and sure enough,
approaching the next climb, the ass-hugger is back. "Could you *please* just
pass me?" I finally ask; he says, "Yeah; I'm sorry," and during a section wide
enough for four to ride abreast, he finally rides past me, whereupon he
immediately disappears into the distance. Fine. After my ride, I spoke to a
woman who'd been walking with a friend and their dogs; on the final descent,
he didn't bother braking at all as he flew by them, no word of warning and
nearly clipping one of the dogs. Nice.
In summary, it was a great, much-needed ride. I finally did three laps (and would
have gone for four had dusk not been approaching); I had some skill/confidence
break-throughs; I worked out some angry energy and came home in a much better
mood than I'd had when I left the office. It was a Good Ride.
--
monique
"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live."
-- Mark Twain
