WHY I LIKE THE DIRT

I'm not the best mountain biker. I'm still learning how to deal with technical sections. How my bike is going to react in certain conditions or exactly how wide my handlebars are. I am in that space between beginner and sport. Depending on who shows up in sport I get shattered to pieces. One of my issues might be riding the singlespeed competitively. Or as competitive as I can be. I am a bit of an out of shape slug right now. I found that riding a singlespeed gives me a bit of a handicap which I can milk. Oh - I have to take it easy on this climb, oh wait I have to book it on this decent, oh - I need a breather. I only have one gear mofo's. Then these folks ride with Rich (teamdicky.blog.com) or creepy friendly & realize I'm simply a pussy. A pussy slug.
I often question why folks are ok with draging me along to ride with them. When I'm out of sorts and running into trees or wussing out on creek crossings. Yet they invite me or tag along on my rides as often as possible. For a long time I thought it was because I was a bike mechanic. They get a flat - I fix it. Jammed brake lever? No problem. I can build their bikes, fix their suspension & make all their worries go away. That's what I thought for a long time. These folks wait for me just in case they get that flat or stick in the spokes.

Then it dawned on me that maybe they ride with me for these. Not the boobs. The shirt. I'm always rocking out the sweet Twin Six clothing. Making the whole group look awesome. I've got the socks, the t-shirts, the jerseys & if they came out with shorts or gloves, I'm sure I would be rocking those too. What I lack in riding I try and make up with style. Head to toe & even on my bike some days.

A couple weeks back I showed up in old lacrosse shorts and a plain baby blue jersey. Granted the jersey was a sweet Castelli that fit me like a glove but it had no style. Basic baby blue waffled weave. Where did my style go? I thought folks would leave me in the woods. But they didn't. They laughed at my shorts & waited for me like they always did. What am I missing? Why the hell are these go go fast folks waiting on me? Are they seeing something I don't?

I had forgotten something very important. We were riding MOUNTAIN bikes. We were part of that non-elitest club that didn't care what you did or what you rode as long as you rode.

I guess for a while there I was thinking that it was like road biking. Where what you wore had to be the newest lightest carbon clad, and what you rode better be light, stiff and expensive. I might suck as a mountain biker. I might have a chance at competing at a road level but roadies wouldn't deal with me getting drunk and looking like this.

Arleigh Jenkins
arsbars.com