How to become a mountain biker.

In a sincere attempt to write things in this space that stay true to its intended message (I am a person who does stuff and then writes about it), I hereby present my personal insight into the world of the mountain biker. 

HOW TO BECOME A MOUNTAIN BIKER.

The Decision.

Congratulations.  You have made a decision that you feel will benefit your life as a whole, both physically, and mentally.  You have decided that you want to be a mountain biker.  The wind in your hair, the smile on your face, the bubbling laughter emanating from your epiglottis...ahh...those are the memories of your childhood on a bike.  Why not bring those memories and associated wonderful feelings into your present day life?  There is a forest preserve nearby with a lovely network of trails, and you still have that 1987 K-mart special "mountain bike" in the garage...and the shifters still work!  Also...you have been riding the couch with an aplomb that Homer Simpson himself would find enviable, and mountain biking seems like a great way to get back in shape.  Let's do this!

The First Ride

Arriving at the trailhead, you are immediately conscious of the glances the other bikers are firing off in your direction.  You unload your trusty Roadmaster (we'll just say it's a Roadmaster for fun) with considerable effort...after all, it has to weigh 40 pounds...heavy gauge chromium molybdenum build strong to withstand all that offroad abuse.  "Weight doesn't matter," you tell yourself.  "That's why I have 18 gears."  You have consulted a map and planned out a route for your initial excursion.  10 miles seems like a nice even number...how bad could that be?  You swing a leg over your trusty steed, place your feet on the plastic pedals, and with a grunt, shove off into the wild.  The bike comes alive under you as you leave the pavement...you tighten your grip on the bars as your front wheel dances a jig...bouncing off rocks and roots as you struggle to keep it pointed in the right direction.  Your chain speaks to you loudly, saying in a high-pitched and constant chirp "You really should have oiled me, stupid!"  Then, just as you are getting annoyed by the insolence of that chain....there is a hill in front of you.  You take a deep breath, bear down, and mash the pedals.  The hill is only 20 feet tall, but it is steep, and, apparently, you are in too high of a gear.  You wrench the shifter, and the bike shifts...immediately.  All of your weight is on one pedal...which suddenly has no resistance.  Upon picking yourself and the bike up off the ground, so realize you have learned your first lesson on how to shift PRIOR to a hill.  Excellent.  You climb to the top of the hill and start down.  WOW!  This is GREAT!  There's that feeling you had as a kid!  BUT....now you are an adult...and there is a tree in front of you.  Instinctively, you grab a handful of brake...your front brake.  This time, as you are staring at the sky, you are thinking about how much more violent this fall was than the previous one.  You gradually determine that all of your parts are still in working order, and, with slightly shaken resolve, you continue.  Now...depending upon your strength as a person, either physically or mentally, you finish this ride.  You come back to your car...legs shaking, arms aching, at least one article of clothing looks like it has gone through a cheese grater.  You are covered with sweat and dirt...and, quite possibly blood.  Your bike may or may not have survived.  You are experiencing major discomfort in the crotchal region.  In spite of all this, against all your better judgement, you find....you actually had FUN.

The Gateway

The above routine gets repeated two or three more times, when you realize that your bike just isn't going to cut it.  You have oiled the offending chain in order to silence it.  You have somewhat mastered the "art" of shifting, but the bike doesn't always shift when you want it to.  Your brakes leave something to be desired as the pads are dry-rotted with age.  You have an appointment in the near future with your dentist to replace the fillings that have been jarred loose from the abuse of the frame's stiffness.  If you are going to do this, you are going to need a new ride.  So, off to the local bike shop you go.  Once again, you find yourself prostrate on the ground, this time staring at the ceiling of the bike shop, while your eyes and ears slowly come back into focus and pick up on the shop rat frantically attempting to decide whether or not he is getting paid enough to administer CPR to potential customers.  Yes, a decent mountain bike is expensive.  A good mountain bike, more so.  And an excellent mountain bike easily eclipses the "I didn't pay that much for my first car" cliche.  Plus, there are so many decisions to make.  Shimano or SRAM?  Front suspension or full suspension?  26 inch, 29 inch, or 650b wheel size?  Your head spins, your wallet comes out...and the addiction BEGINS.  At this point, you have spent, say $700 on a bike.  You should chuckle softly to yourself, because, as the third person omniscient author,  I KNOW that in the future, you will spend that kind of money on PARTS.

The Intro

You return to the trailhead with your new ride AND the helmet you wisely purchased, and emboldened by your new acquisition, you decide to actually speak to the other riders.  This is where the whole mountain biking thing really separates itself from other disciplines of cycling...the other riders not only speak with you as an equal, but invite you to ride with them.  Through this experience, you determine that you have a LOT to learn, but you find that imitating what the rider in front of you is doing seems to help in developing your own skills.  Then comes the REAL bonus...at the end of the ride...they offer you a BEER.  What started as a slippery slope has rapidly become a rollicking downhill into the morass of mountain bike addiction.

The Abyss

It will most likely happen gradually, and you might not even notice at first, but slowly, inevitably, your life is consumed by thoughts of....dirt.  You schedule some rides with your new friends, and your ability improves greatly.  Those hills that caused you more pain than you care to remember on the first few rides are now dispatched with ease.  During work, you start planning routes that you will be riding in the afternoon.  Your significant other starts to question their importance in your life.  You start speaking the language of the offroad crowd.  Words like derailleur, bottom bracket, crankset, cassette, stem, saddle, and shocks are now part of your lexicon.  Your friends notice you are...different.  You think...maybe...just maybe...I should try a race.  Now THIS is where things get serious. 

The Plunge

You toe the line at your first race and, for a fleeting second, wonder how in the hell you got there.  Aside from the obvious car ride, of course.  You flash back to that first ride, smile to yourself, and the gun goes off.  An hour or so later, you are exhausted, battered...and ready to do it again soon.  Getting that first race under your belt results in an entirely new set of problems...the UPGRADES.  Surely, a better fork would have resulted in better speed through that rock garden.  A lighter frame would definitely cut down on fatigue as would a lighter, faster wheelset.  Clipless pedals, riser bars, hydraulic disk brakes, shifter upgrades...oh my!  And then <gasp>...CARBON FIBER.  Its called "The Plunge" for a reason.  This part happens quickly.  Before you know it, you are up to your bib shorts in a kind of dirt-infused miasma.

The Acceptance

You are now a regular at the trailhead.  YOU bring the beer.  YOU show the new guys around.  You get involved with the local trail maintenance crew, and suddenly, you find yourself going to the trails for reasons OTHER than riding.  Now your friends and significant other are CERTAIN you have lost it...who volunteers their time to go dig in the dirt...for fun?  But you realize the greater good.  You know that without the work, there is no place to play.  Your journey is complete.  You actually became a mountain biker the first time you rolled a tire into the dirt, but the rest of the trip was just a product of a great environment, a great sport, and a great group of like-minded people.  Enjoy.  Because that is what its about.