Full Sumphony Orchestra

At an age when most kids had headphones in and a scowl on their face, I was outside with a shovel in my hand.  The only rhythm and beat drumming in my ears was the one created from digging, throwing, and packing dirt.  Building jumps and trails, those sounds were the music of my younger years.  Coupled with the birds’ songs, the wind in the trees, crickets, and the rustle of leaves, I had a very peaceful and calming taste in music.  My preference of Classical music meshes well with this facet of riding.  The organic sounds of the creation and execution of a trail are sublime, they can only be matched by the swish of snow sluff following me while skiing in the winter.  

My real exposure to contemporary music came from bike movies as it were; my way of relaxing after playing in the woods all afternoon.  The variation between the Kranked series, New World Disorder, and then The Collective films provided a substantial and eclectic range of music genres to dive into, and dive I did.  I hunted down and replicated the musical line-ups from those films so that even if I wasn’t watching the films, I could channel the “vibes” from the different riding sections to get fired up while driving to and from riding.  When I got into racing, the playlists were derived from films like Super 8, In Between The Tape, and Earthed 1-5.  I then felt like I had my own riding soundtrack, collected over a period of time, and the guitar riffs echo in my mind to this day when I dig and ride.

Times have changed as the avenues of entertainment have shifted from hardcopy to the more accessible “Internet Edit”.  I love that I have the ability to watch the most jaw dropping and awe-inspiring riding at the click of a button.  It is “Stoke On Demand”, and it is all the most current riding available.  From all of these edits in the past few years, I have discovered some amazing new bands, artists, and one-hit wonders.  My Grooveshark playlists are filled with band names that came right from the ending credits of an edit I saw online.  I use sports edits (skiing, snowboarding, bmx, and skate) as a main source for new music.  Filmers always have their fingers on the pulse of the music scene, just waiting and listening for that one perfect song for the latest segment.

One downside of the immediacy of being able to view all of this content is that often “that one great song” gets used repeatedly until it is no longer enjoyable to listen to - like when your favorite Indy band makes it to the Top 40 radio play (a sad day).  I think it is cool when the power of a song is unanimously recognized, but there should be a rule about how many times “Radioactive”, by Imagine Dragons can be used in online edits (among a few other songs from last year).  Strive to not only keep content current, but the soundtracks for the content as well.  I’ve noticed a trend in The Big Three (snowboarding, bmx, and skating): they have been going “old school” - classic rock, old punk, and even some vintage metal.  I think this is a refreshing resurgence of “the classics”, as I will always get fired up if it is a new use of a song, regardless of what year it was recorded.  With that in mind, I’m not sure how I’d feel if “Call Me Maybe” was the song that queued up with the footage.  

At this point in my life, I have “crawled out of [my] cave” and listen to plenty of non-bike related tunes.  Most people take me for a “Metal Head”, someone who just smashes things with the volume way, way up - partly true, but I enjoy a large array of types music.  I believe that this was influenced a bit by The Collective guys when they put in an eclectic variety of tunes for a lot of the screaming-fast trail shots and flowing big airs.  With some of the more mellow jams, I found they brought my personal levels up, but kept my mind relaxed, and that is how I like to listen to music: I like to be energized, but placated mentally by the sounds I’m listening to.  While I will never be the guy with headphones in on the trail, just know that under my helmet I have my own little concert politely playing to a crowd of one, as a cacophony of trail and bike noise fills in the background.

Why So Serious?

Wet foliage on crisp fall morning is what racing smells like.  I know a lot of people think hot, dusty trails and the smell of gloves is racing, but my race smells like my first downhill race in September of 2004 in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  There, as an unwitting 14 year old kid, I threw myself blindly down a hill as the timer ticked off seconds and they gathered next to my name.  Since that first day racing the Hardtail Open class, I haven’t looked back, my life has been racing against the clock from that point on.  

Eight years later, 2012, I didn’t race, not once did I hear the fateful start gate beeps in person.  Life happens, and I got a job - it certainly wasn’t glamorous, and it definitely didn’t provide me with any ulterior satisfaction to my need for speed.  I was able to train, but not race, so when the the 2013 season finally came-a-knocking, I was feeling ready - I was quite literally losing sleep thinking about it; I was joining back up with the traveling circus of dirty bikers and their noble steeds!

   Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the first race of the year at Mountain Creek in New Jersey and there was a 40-foot (to the knuckle) step-down!  Wow!  Finally!  They boys in NJ came out swinging...but so had the riders, and I’m not sure what to make of the latter.  See, when I had last raced in 2011, there was still this elemental feeling of “grassroots” and “local race vibe” in the air.  But now, now there was a different lingering feeling in the atmosphere; could it be?  I didn’t want it to be, but it was there, that “serious feeling”.

   Color me surprised when I realized that the fun times I had once known had seemingly been replaced with a lot of stern looks, hushed discussions, and a lot of unfamiliar faces.  Change is good, and I’m glad for it, but I feel like I was seeing a friend for the first time in a while and more than their haircut had changed.  No, this wasn’t good, and I was in for a bit of a startling realization:  people got serious while I was out tending the fields [note: no joke, I was working on an organic fruit/veggie farm in 2012].  

   How could this have happened?  Well, it’s not that hard to draw a few conclusions: Gwin happened;  race coverage is coming back; a lot of fast guys have stepped out of the local scene because of work or something similar; the “old crew” was tired out, and the new kids on the block were spurred on by the winningest American racer they had read about on the forums.  The repercussions, while positive for the industry in terms of sales of products is great, I can’t argue that, but the real cost seems to have been the soul of the scene.

   Suddenly everyone is super “factory” in attitude, and not just “that one guy” who washes his bike after every run - everywhere I looked people were looking and acting the part of “big time” racers, albeit without the sweet endorsement checks.  For facebook statuses updating the masses about how “Day 1 of Practice” went, how the bike felt, blah, blah, high fives for the sponsor hashtags.  I’m happy that people have really taken to “making it”, it drives the competition, but I am not so sure the quiet pits and quite obvious lack of comradery is a positive replacement for the once rowdy post-riding parking lot antics.  

   Granted, a lot of the top racers from the East Coast have either stepped back from racing (in terms of race attendance, not speed) i.e. being more selective about venues, or have been moving up the ladder in the world of racing to the World Cup level (an odd split which speaks more to the availability of sponsor dollars than anything else).  But, to me, that doesn’t account for what I think amounts to a frosty off-piste atmosphere.  Just because you look fresh in your kit, straddling something a WC pro rides does not make you special.  Don’t be like that frat bro wearing a “Howard” jersey and go around acting like you can dunk.  Troy Lee and Fox make great kits, and I don’t think any of the designers would appreciate all of the cold interactions taking place with their logos present.  

   When the guys in on your computer screens, talking to you through Dirt TV, are more approachable and friendly than Joe Racer at Small Race Venue, I think it is time to consider what’s changed and why.

It's All About The Bike

Are you slow?  Do you keep crashing?  Can’t find those winning seconds?  For some reason you can’t just “whip it out” on the local hill?  Don’t worry!  It’s not you, it’s your bike!  Fear not, Lance Armstrong was totally wrong when he titled his book, “It’s not about the bike”; It’s ALL about the bike.  The geometry is totally wrong, the suspension curve looks like it has scoliosis, and the weight distribution is worse than a Weight Watchers class.  I just want to put your worry to rest, because you should know that the only inhibitor keeping you from being #1 out on the hill and earning a fat paycheck aboard your bike, is well, your bike.  

How can this possibly be fixed then?  No one takes your suggestions within the various RideMonkey forums seriously, and you constantly get told off on local rides about your theories regarding bike set-up…this is a dead-end road and you’re out of an audience - even your bike is starting to seem indignant and down-right spiteful (ANOTHER FLAT YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING).  What to do, what to do.  Solidworks is hard and expensive, and your napkin drawings end up with too many water rings on them, so those ideas are lost; won’t someone just take you seriously?!

No.  And I won’t either.  This excuse is irrelevant now.  2013 is the year that I am calling an end to this complaint about “[it] is the bike’s fault” and any other general blame on equipment - at this point in time, barring catastrophic failures, it IS your fault.  If Gee was able to nurse multiple (f)ailing designs through top-tier competition over the past couple of years, you certainly have no excuses, especially now that the new Fury is practically a cruise missile built to destroy the competition’s confidence (my hat off to GT and Gee and Rach this year).  

Sure, the World Cup crowd is special, and thus their rides are too...except that 90% of the riders on the circuit are on bikes you can buy (and do, and then complain).  I once went to school and learned a few things about the “Scientific Method”, and after looking at your plight, it is plain to see that you are the root of every one of your issues out on the hill.  Can’t corner, always slide out?  Lower that tire pressure and/or turn down your low-speed compression.  Keep going OTB while JRA?  Slow that rebound down and/or raise your bar height.  Bike falling apart?  Take better care of it.  Don’t know how?  Figure it out, bikes are pretty simple - or “Google”  Sheldon Brown (RIP).  

The bikes we are all on today are AMAZING.  Read Dirt’s interview with Missy “The Missile” Giove  - she jumped onto a Demo 8 and thrashed the hell out of it, first time out.  Sure she’s a legend, but the point remains, the steeds we ride are effectively designed to make riding as easy as possible, and provide the optimum “fun factor”.  Dave Weagle isn’t sitting around thinking about suspension designs that will challenge the rider and test how well they know a bike - no!  Don’t be obtuse, DW’s designs revolutionized the sport and gave the bikes with his mind behind them magical properties.  VPP and FSR are also fantastic, and are really the only other real designs that have winning clout, which are not single pivots.  But this isn’t an argument about “whose is better” - this is about the fact that bikes are bikes, and the way they ride really comes down to the tinkering you do in your driveway, running over curbs, bunny-hopping it twice, and calling it “race-ready”.  

If this is all news to you as a reader, that is unfortunate, and I’m sorry to say that your riding buddies were right:  your bike, that costs as much as a beater car, is in fact, not the problem.  This is a prime example of operator error and your local bike shop employees probably hate listening to your “war stories” from each weekend ride, where “something went wrong” and thus landed you back in the shop telling the bike tech how to fix your bassackward built of a bike.  The solution to your woes is this:  ask around among qualified people i.e. people who don’t “huck”, listen, take the advice, think.  You can fix yourself, and become a better rider, the first step is just admitting you’re the problem. 

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

I want to ride like a girl.  I do, that’s a serious statement.  When women like Rachel Atherton and Tracy Hannah are flying down the hill, I think it is totally cool to want to ride like them.  This sport of mountain biking needs women as much as it need chains to spin the wheels.  Sure, the demographic is not as large as the male market, however, that’s not to say we shouldn’t foster the segment.  When I was a kid I idolized the Luna Chix squad as much as I did Cedric Gracia or Nathan Rennie.  Those women were amazing, both the DH’ers like Marla and Kathy, and the XC’ers like Katerina - I have autographed water bottles from them to prove that my fan-dom was top-tier, gender of the rider notwithstanding, because they were the best.

    Years after my first NORBA national at Mount Snow (as an attendee, not a racer) where I met all of these amazing athletes, I read Marla Streb’s book and was floored by her story.  It pushed me to keep trying and not get discouraged.  My dad and I actually parked next to her at the US Open in 2006 and chatted with her and Mark (a noble man of note in her life), trying not to geek out the whole time.  It was so cool being able to be around such formidable athletes as a young rider, even more so that a good number of them were strong and positive women.  Right now, we have an equally strong contingent of women sending it all over the world.  The Women’s Pro field on the World Cup circuit is intense right now.  Once Holly is healed up, and Tahnee moves up, the Elite class is going to be even more stacked.

    
I want to help sway the perception of female riders. They do not have to be super masculine or lose their femininity to be strong. Tough women can still have that “girly side” per se.  The trend of making women’s gear über girly with stereotypical color schemes and graphics was once overly prevalent and definitely undermined the efforts of the women pushing the envelope and putting in the work to be taken seriously. Having the option of a pink bike, like Tracey's old Morewood or Holly Feniak’s old Cove - it’s always nice - but Casey Brown and Micayla Gatto are both rocking non-pink kits and bikes.  The aspects of a women’s gear need to have a bigger focus on fit during the design phrase.  Thankfully, the marketing folks and designers took notice, and listened to consumers (women) preaching a similar gospel.  Now, there are many neutral options for women, focusing less on having a girly “look”, and instead focus on proper tailoring and function.  Providing products that meet the needs of female participants, and not just redoing size “small” men’s gear with new colors, has been a huge leap forward for the sport.  It addresses the growing female rider population and shows that this sport is all about inclusion and making sure that rider concerns turn away from if gear will fit/work properly, and more towards progressing on the bike and out on the trails.  It is great to see brands stepping up to the plate by producing quality women’s lines with variety of options in style and function to meet a broader range of tastes and needs.  Making sure women are more focused on progressing on the bike instead of stressing about finding clothing and gear that works for them should be the end-goal.

I think gender neutrality in terms of options is a good starting point, because in my opinion, having attention focused on the riding and actions on track far outweighs the importance of appearance in terms of gender norms.  Too many other sports turn athletes into sex symbols (both men and women) and I think that can detract from the athlete’s accomplishments within the sport, versus the resulting appearance from the hard training that made them famous in the first place.  Don’t get me wrong, attractive athletes certainly don’t hurt the sport, but think it is paramount that as the sport grows and we address the way women are portrayed in ads and other forms of marketing (I’m looking at you Specialized, and that sexy nurse).  We need to keep in mind that we are all out on the trail for the same reason and this isn’t like football where the men put on the pads and helmets, and we hand the women pom poms and spanks.  Callused hands show hard work, as do painted nails, so instead of carrying on the age-old stereotype of “girly-girls” and “tom-boys”, let’s give credit where credit is due and talk about how great the rider is, gender notwithstanding. 

Rejuvenation

Our social culture romanticizes antiquity.  Generationally, we have all embraced a love for a time come and gone, finding a real interest in nostalgia, though only in the most idyllic ways.  We pick and choose the rosey bits that make us swoon and yearn for “a simpler time”.  Call the movement “Hipster”, but giving it a name isn’t really relevant, because this social trend is not new, and it just picks up the pieces from eras relegated to the history books.  In rare instances, bringing back the old isn’t such a bad idea though: Old film cameras are always a treasure; vintage cars draw the eyes of passers by; my favorite is vintage bikes, and not because it is “trendy”, I actually enjoy what they offer in their existence.  

A knowledgeable bike enthusiast will suddenly stop and excitedly point to a bike rack, everyone else will just see beater bikes neglected and left to time.  But, upon closer inspection, in that rack there is an old Schwinn cruiser, a once-beautiful Peugeot, and a nameless steel lugged piece of art gone the way of the thrifty commuter.  I see these bikes all around town here in Burlington, and it is the same in cities and college campuses everywhere.  These antiques bought off a friend, Craig’s List, or found in forgotten shed, can be brought up to rideable condition and will continue to be for countless years.

With care and maintenance, the bicycle from years ago will ride well into the future and far beyond where the eye can see.  Their construction came from a time where the mindset was, “Built to last”.  In “those days”, there was no concept of planned obsolescence, no “Race only” builds, just two triangles and wheels designed to get one from point A to point B and back, again and again.  To me, this is special.  The idea that a product is built to last a lifetime, and then another, because it is both a tool and a toy, is beautiful.  Now, in a world where everything needs to be as new as possible and only last the duration until the next new item comes about, the old steady steeds continue to plug along like diesel engines of the bike world.

This summer, I finally took my interest to ground and started to buy up old bikes for cheap.  I wanted to see these relics, lost to attics and garages, brought back to the streets, renewed and ready to continue the journey to wherever the rider desires.  I knew the task of sanding rusted parts, oiling seized chains, and tracking down odd-sized tires was going to be a pain, but it is a labor of love to me.  To be able to bring a bike back from the brink, and see if put to use again is like releasing a wild animal back into its natural habitat.  I feel invigorated, a great sense of accomplishment, and I feel good for providing a service others benefit from.  I sell the bikes for low prices, and get college kids going places faster and smiling because they now have a unique bike with character.

One of my online hunts lead me to a Schwinn Speedster, an old 3-speed town bike in green.  For the cost of $100, plus $40 for a new tire, tube, and brake cable/housing, this wicked ride was back in action.  I have decided to keep it for myself this time.  I couldn’t be more pleased; It creaks, it isn’t perfect, and it is slightly uncomfortable.  It is my imperfect but trusty ride, ready to go get groceries or cruise the bike path, which I did today.  As we zipped north along Lake Champlain on such a gorgeous Autumn afternoon, I pondered the return on investment of this project.  Frankly, I don’t think there is a real measure for the return I received.  With the sun lazily drifting through the tree canopy, the staccato of the trunks flashing by, and the gleam of the lake, this Schwinn and I clanked, hummed, and creaked a very happy and relaxing couple of miles to shed the stress of life.  

This same experience could have been had on a bike from a department store or  aboard a multi-thousand dollar piece of engineering.  Instead the participants were a tired twenty-something and a rejuvenated 1973 Schwinn Speedster.  The simplicity of the adventure on a quiet afternoon reminded me why the bicycle is such a special part of my life:  No matter what is happening in my day, regardless of the weather, when I climb into the saddle and set off, I am in my “happy place”.  Riding is my escape, and to be able to do it wherever and whenever is magical.  To provide someone else with an enjoyable escape or an affordable means of transportation, far outweighs the actual or personal cost of the process.  Finding old bikes, getting them out into the world and under happy faces is what makes it all worth it for me.  A Classic with refreshed life is able to give the rider that same feeling.

Fat Tire Initiative

There are many horrible sounds we all have to put up with in our day-to-day: car alarms, cell phone users in line for coffee, most top-40 music, babies crying, etc.  But one sound that trumps them all has to be that fateful sound of air rapidly escaping from your tube inside your tire while riding, or worse yet, a timed race run; You deflate with it, curse the on-trail culprit, and your poor line choice.  But, what I still can’t figure out is, of all the wild mechanical improvements in the past five years e.g. drive trains, suspension guts, even rubber compounds! - how we have yet to improve the tube.  

The one item on any bike that truly makes a bike work, is the ultimate Achilles heel of the entire operation.  Titles have been won and lost because of flat tires (you were so close to that KOM on Strava, but that damn ledge rock!!!!); fun rides turned into scenes worthy of any Hollywood drama; commutes turned into tongue lashings from an annoyed coffee shop hipster boss - the list of mishaps is endless really.  But what is being done?  An item that has a single digit wholesale cost, has upended multi-million dollar investments on the World Cup circuit, and ruined your hard-earned weekend of fun/racing.  However, it has yet to be changed in, as far as I can tell, the entire history of these two-wheeled machines.

Surprisingly, I myself do not have a solution.  There have been attempts to coddle the issue: softer rims, stiffer sidewalls, stiffer rims, softer rubbers (so you can run more PSI) - hell, call tubeless a solution, rather than an innovation.  But burping those setups is a real possibility and they are not perfect either - though they are far superior, they are also quite expensive and a little less straightforward than a tube, a tire, and a floor pump. Again, what is the solution?  Can tubes be given a sweet coating, a spray-on armor?  Can the rubber be made of tougher compounds?  Super heavy duty tubes were not the answer, they were a nice try, but were simply just too heavy and actually affected the way the bike handled.  We all scramble to locate that one brand, that one size, and if it’s not available, well, we’re SOL it seems.  

One thing I’d like to point out: patch kits are insanely cheap, and as “uncool” as it may see to patch a tube, you’ll save a ton of money and always be able to keep riding, albeit after at least a 20 minute rest because fixes take a little while.  I am cheap, and I continue to salvage and breath life back into tubes whenever the damage is minor.  Now, this doesn’t solve the problem of having the flat occur, but sometimes a solution once the problem comes around is half the battle.  If I had more knowledge about rubber and the process by which it and rubber products are made, I’d be working on this issue instead of typing about it.  

This is my Call To Arms, it goes out to all of the engineers in the crowd (so, like, 90% of you) - join this great and noble cause of ending flat tires globally!  With your help, the horrible hissing sound of escaping air and the odd sound of a rolling, airless tire will be eradicated and left to the halls of history!  I want to see races won and lost with bravado and ability, not because of yet another technical failure.  The Earth is not flat, and our tires should not be either!  Together, we can keep the air all for our pleasure, and leave the wallowing of deflated sports equipment to forgotten balls in garages and PE classes across the world.  We live in the future, it’s about damn time we have a means to stop leaks in our tubes, otherwise we are no better than BP...for shame!

Say Cheese

I started taking pictures because I felt as though there wasn’t a good enough record of my existence thus far here on Spaceship Earth.  The hobby started with pictures of my friends, places or views of note, and any other moment I felt should be immortalized in a [digital] negative.  What started as a semi-morbid realization has blossomed into an on-going “yearbook”, a record of “Life As It Is And Was”.  Books are time machines in their own nature, but photographs give us a glimpse of what the pages of text describe.  There is beauty, mystery, and excitement in pictures that words cannot describe.  I have a mild obsession with history, and I somehow want to leave my indelible mark.  And from my own realizations, I have come to appreciate the work of others on a new level.

   National Geographic magazines were always littered around my parents’ house, and still are to this day.  The pictures and stories together bring life from every corner of the globe right into the hands of the reader - it is like having a globe come to life.  Years ago, I asked for a holiday gift of a subscription to BIKE Mag and from then on, I have had the world of biking delivered into my living room each month.  This feeling of exploration from the couch is still as invigorating now as it was then.  The unique sensation for me is derived from the stunning photography gracing the magazine, cover to cover.  After BIKE, came Dirt - the words were spelled differently, the writing style was unique, and the photography blew my mind.  I still get jittery as I rip open the plastic bag holding the mind candy inside.

   Without the willing participation, dedication, and obsession of the camera-wielding men and women whose work I admire, you and I wouldn’t have anything to gawk at - print would be text, and more text.  We take our viewer’s pleasure for granted these days because the internet and magazine racks are flooded with photographic material - some good, a lot of it not great.  That is why the published works I mentioned are on a separate level in my eyes.  It is plain to see, after viewing unending amounts of terrible photos thanks to facebook and instagram, what makes the Vital Slideshows and the Dirt Galleries so world-class: The timing, the composition, the lighting, the post-editing - all of these matter, in so many ways it is hard to put to words.  Everyone is a “photographer” now that DSLRs are affordable and plentiful; that does not mean that everyone should be a “photographer”.  A keen eye, a driving passion, and a sense for the moment is what separates the Elite from a tourist.

   I have tremendous admiration for the all of the dedicated camera-toting wildmen out there in the elements, shooting day after day, chasing that perfect shot.  Guys like Gary Perkins and Sterling Lorence got me hooked; the now-seasoned Sven, the new-comer Duncan Philpott, my good friend Dave Trumpore, and the latest additions, Matt Delorme and Paris Gore all keep me glued to my computer screen these days for more time than I’d like to admit.  They bring the world, in which I wish I had the privilege to play, into my house.  Every race, every event, every two-wheel adventure comes barreling through my LCD screen screaming at me about how awesome [the captured moment] was.  That is what inspiration feels like - it hits hard with a feeling that stays; unexplainable, because if it was worthy of words, cameras wouldn’t be necessary.

Call this a “thank you” note, call this a gushing rambling about how amazing photography is, call it whatever.  I just want to impress upon you, the reader, that we are so very fortunate to be able to bare witness from any location, to the greatness that is mountain biking, racing, freeriding, and play-biking with friends.  This is a global sensation, and we all get to participate.  Occasionally we get to see a photo of a photo-in-the-making: Sven up in a tree or on a snow machine; Dave covered in roost; Matt ducking a falling rider; these “looks outside of the tape”, away from the trail, tell the real tale.  While the riders go back to the pits, or huddle under the eaves, the bold photogs lay in wait for the perfect shot to materialize, rain or shine.  It is a brutal occupation, but it’s not about the glitz or the glory, it is about creating history, sharing the now, inspiring the masses, and providing a visual to accompany the amazing memories for those who were there, or couldn’t be for that matter.  At times a thankless task, being a professional photographer can still be insanely gratifying because of what they get to witness.

Thank you all for your tireless dedication to capture the most memorable moments, making someone hike, “One more time!” and for holding yourselves to an unparalleled standard.  You all have provided me with front row seats to the world’s best competitions, and for that, I am forever grateful.

Gwinning Killed The MTB Star

I know he didn’t mean to, but I think Aaron Gwin accidentally ruined DH racing.  It was a slow build up, but it happened.  He showed up one day to a WC on board a Yeti 303, and bar humped his way into our hearts - we were fans immediately.  But then something weird happened: he won in South Africa, and he didn’t stop winning for the next two years (sure they weren’t perfect seasons, but how many of you can name the other winners?  Hint: Minnaar, McDonald, and Smith).  It was a transformation that would have made Megatron nod in approval.  

After embarrassing the entire Pro Men’s field for back-to-back summers, there has been a noticeable shift in the world of racing, a new standard has arrisen.  This was the third era of perfection unseen since Vouilloz crushed the competition a decade ago, and then when Hill decided that his riding, “...goes to 11”.  “Gwinning” become a commonly used word, hashtagging it was funny, and just like that, ‘Merica was thumping its red, white, and blue chest at the international competition.  

Sure, we needed it, let’s be honest:  American racing has been in some serious need of help since the now-defunct NORBA series was surpassed by the World Cup scene as the real stage of high caliber racing.  Gwin has been the man to resurrect the passion from the masses, and the irony in that phrasing is that he is in fact a very devout man in his own right.  But that has little bearing on what I’m getting at here.  The bigger change that occurred was much less subtle, and much more startling; racing got serious.  

Gone are the interviews of goofy smiles and coy hints about how the track is riding from Hill, even Bryceland’s Manchester Mumblings are more relevant to how his day is going.  Have we, dare I say, “Gone Moto”?  I like this sport because it has characters with character.  Mountain biking does not need a bunch of men and women standing around and talking about how well their [tire band] nobs are “hooking up mint in the corners” - if the Parkin’s are catching them on camera making it around the corner, that is plain for me to see.  What separates “us” from “them” is when guys like Faircloth come hooning into a section in practice, point to Sven, and then giggle with stoke about how rad the course is running.  

There is also trickle-down from the WC guys into the local scene (duh, that’s how this all works), but in this case, it isn’t a positive thing: groms should not have “pro swagger”.  I do not think it’s funny or cool when a Cat 2 rider talks about their semi-slow run, which involved tagging two different trees, as if the sound bite would accompany a photo of them next to their shop-priced mid-range bike.  As a struggling Pro racer myself, I just shake my head, thinking back to the days of Jr.X when riding was loose, semi-serious, and all about just hanging it out for the pair of Avid Codes the winner was going to be awarded for being the fastest kid down.

So, how is this all Gwin’s fault?  Well, this change I’ve been summarizing has been in effect, frankly always, but Gwin brought the hammer, and bedded the nails in once and for all.  He is - and don’t kid yourself, he’s human and had an “off season” - obviously one of, if not THE fastest guy out there, and because of that, the paradigm shift occurred, forcing everyone to buckle down, get serious with training and diet, and try to fill in the massive rift that Gwin single-handedly created by JUST HAVING FUN.  Listen to the guy talk in his interviews...he is loving every minute out there, and laughing about his issues, while the competition is beating the course to death trying to find those precious tenths-to-seconds that they can’t find.   

Gwin, by having fun, took all the fun out of the sport.  It’s too serious now.  I’m probably going to have to quit or drop down to Cat 1 just because I can’t handle the pressure of knowing that Aaron Gwin is the-11-seconds-faster-national-champion and has set a bar so high in the minds of us all that we are now forever doomed to the mantra of “checkers or wreckers” in a pathetic effort to achieve stardom in our own hearts and minds.  My helmet off to you Gwinny, you showed us how insanely talented you are, and your inspiring riding and attitude has ruined the entire sport I love.

One Life, One Ride

Inspiring moments come along pretty frequently these days due in part to the immediacy of our need to know, and the rate at which news travels.  Each day online there is a new headline about a touching tale of adversity overcome, or some philanthropic gesture from one stranger to another.  It is great to see, don’t get me wrong.  But I think, like all other forms of news in this country, we are desensitized to the events we hear about, even the feel-good ones.  ESPN’s Top 10’s bring us these similar moments from the world of sports, and Cam Zink actually made the cut a few years back when he 360’d the Icon Sender at Rampage.  But one component we sometimes miss when we hear about all of these terrific tales of human excellence, is the mental strength of the individuals who buck the norm and just send it; taking in a struggling teen, putting oneself in danger to help another, riding up to an actual clif and spinning off it, etc.  

    What’s my angle here you ask?  It is actually the elite mind of Greg Minnaar, and how his third World Championship win was one of the greatest moments in the history of our sport.  This is a big claim, but I am willing to back it up.  I will concede that it was not as spectacular as Danny Hart’s win, or one of Sam Hill’s displays of rainbow-winning chaos.  Another man who earned his stripes with pure grit, Steve Peat, made an interesting comment years ago that I think is relevant here: said of another ‘stripe-clad competitor, Vouilloz, Peaty called him, “boring” and not exciting.  Fair point, Palmer certainly stole the style show from that era.  I make note of this because a friend and I talked about Greg’s win the day after, and my friend remarked (something to the effect of), [the win was] expected and just not the most exciting outcome possible, and while still a great win, only garnered a “meh” reaction.  I can’t argue that it wasn’t a super flashy win, but there was something else going on there in SA that, to me, was truly amazing.

Brandon Semenuk, in a recent edit, said that he hates riding in front of his home crowd at Joy Ride because of the pressure and associated feelings with having friends and family in attendance.  However, Greg seems to channel those energies with a different vigor: he has an amazing ability to focus on the task at hand, use the home crowd energy as fuel, and absolutely fire down the track in PMB.  The real race heads here on Vital might recall a few seasons ago when the WC circus arrived in PMB, that Greg’s dad was ill and not in top shape.  This was a big weight on Greg, something he only mentioned a once or twice pre and post-race.  He was fighting a lot of emotions that weekend.  But what did he do?  He won.  He put down and amazing run, under the pressure of his hometown crowd, and also the weight of an ailing parent - that is mental fortitude, and on that level, it cannot be taught.

This is further relevant in 2013 when World Champs tumbled south of the equator and landed in PMB, right on Greg’s front steps.  Greg has The Stripes, so the pressure of earning them is not there, but the pressure of proving himself once more never goes away.  He is on the older end of the sport, but 31 is not “old”, and he has plenty left in the tank and is still at the top of the sport.  So, all eyes were on him, and had been all year leading up to the fateful weekend.  The average person will not ever face this kind of challenge: pitted against the best of the best, a no-holds-barred event where all the tricks are brought out, at home - winning is the only goal.  Imagine that for a moment; be Greg.  Feel that?  That’s an entire city behind you, cheering your name, the hype machine working overtime.  

Let’s not forget that part of World Champs is the equipment risks that the riders take.  Very often, single-run parts are used, or in the very least, components what serve no other purpose beyond the weekend are in play.  For those attentive Vital viewers, the sound bite and picture of Greg’s flat tire told a remarkable story: from the moment he chose to run the light-casing tire, he knew that after the rockgarden gap, he would no longer be racing the course, riders, or himself, he would be racing against a flat tire.  But, the benefits outweighed the risk; he knew what he had to do to win.  Like the masterful tactician he is, he managed his race run perfectly.  He flatted.  He won.  Madness.  

That is perfection.  Winning at home, weighing the risks, and making the odds end up in one’s own favor.  There was no sneaky line, no over-the-limit moment of winning risk; just calculated winning strategy.  Sure, call it boring, call it whatever you want.  I call it an iron-clad race-mind - I call it winning.  Being able to be perfect when it matters most is what sets the best of the best ahead of the rest.  Greg, Gee, Gwin, Smith - these guys know what it takes, and it is thrilling to witness the outflow of emotion they display when it all goes to plan.  The ending to World Champs this year couldn’t have been better.  After the One Life movie premiere, to have Greg win...sublime.  Seeing the emotional value of the weekend in Greg, Roskopp, the whole Syndicate, Gary Perkins, the One Lifers, and Greg’s family, it really brought the context of racing to life - the endless training, self-sacrifice, mental games, and all the external factors.  Racing is more than just sport, it is more than entertainment, it is a way of life, and it is where we test our limits in a way only we know how. 

Welcome to The Start Gate.

This is a place for discourse and commentary relevant to our shared enjoyment of mankind's greatest invention, the bicycle.

Some of these pieces will already be familiar, as they have seen publication on a top industry website, but I wanted to give them a more permanent archival home. Here, I'll be posting up pieces ranging from musings to hardline analyses of the industry and culture of the sport, or anything else that seems relevant to the conversation.  

Grab some coffee, drop in, and have a read around.  Constructive comments are welcome, anything obscene or ignorant will be treated with similar tact.