#TeamOldDudes

The second day of being out and about, and the original plan for a long and hilly road ride had been canned. I felt the previous day’s ten hours in the saddle would do quite nicely as the long ride of the weekend safely in the bag.  So I was tempted out by a few others going out to the Nevis range for some delightful trail centre red runs.  What’s not to like?

The group included TeamTaylor, plus Mark and John.  John was busy claiming he was a novice mountain biker. He lied.  Bad boy.  Turned out what he meant was that he’d spent his entire youth  messing about in hills and woods on BMXs and old skool mountain bikes.  Also he gently dropped into conversation the couple of triathlons he did last year.  Ah.  Road bike robot like qualities were indeed apparent.  As indeed was the skill level he had on the off road.  After nailing the skills section at the start, off we went.  John in the lead.

Being the kind spirited motherly soul I am (John is a year older than me but you know what I mean) I realised that someone had to take some kind of responsibility for looking after the “novice”.  So I did my level best to at least keep him in sight.  Much harder work than I had pictured the day’s riding to involve, having been quite confident that my comfort zone would remain positively cozy.  It didn’t.  I pedalled like a loon to keep up, both up and down. I swung round corners, I remained on the pedals down rock gardens, I leaned over on the North Shore (boardwalk) sections.  I swooped and I flew.  Basically I pushed it between every group re-gathering.  And John just kept going and going and going.  Even leaving him behind on the straight forward fire road climbs was only rewarded by him wanting to do it all again; to repeat loops.  His infectious enjoyment and giddiness of feeling 12 years old again took over the group, and all of us did more distance and more technical stuff than we would have without him.  I’m grateful.

I’m reminded of how much riding is like being 12 again, and how that’s the totally natural response I instinctively have towards being on the mountain bike in the right kind of mixed group or on my own.  It’s really really nice being somewhere in the middle of a group not hanging off the back, despite the slimmed down opportunities of lycra bum following.  It was also good to be the baby of the group at 44 years old, and feel the lightness of heart from the day.

Oh, and there was cake too.