There’s a wide range of skillsets within the world of mountain biking, and while I feel like I am learning quickly, I often have to remind myself that until I moved to Virginia in 2021 (just a year ago?!), I had never seen rocks…not #eastcoastrocks, anyway. All of that to say, I have a LONG way to go!

Despite this fact, I registered for an enduro at the end of the season this year–a sort of cherry to top off the season. If your first question is, “Did you die?” No. No, I didn’t not die. I did not even wreck my bike. However, I also did not send it off of the road gap, or clear any of the doubles, or even take the A-line in most cases where there was an option.

BUT, I did do it.

After racing Iceman (the flattest, least-technical mountain bike race in the history of mountain bike racing) and taking two weeks completely off of my bike, I drove down to Kanuga Bike Park in Hendersonville, North Carolina for the celebration that is all things gravity mountain biking: Cranksgiving.

The weather was unfortunately cold, which did much to diminish my appreciation of the sport, as I was less inclined to want to party-pace the climbs, or spend more time than absolutely necessary outside in said cold. Still, I dutifully showed up on Friday, rode each of the ensuing day’s trails once, bemoaned the fitness I’d lost and the weight of my “big bike” appropriately, and returned to my car to thaw. With the encouragement of some friends, I kitted back up late in the afternoon and pedaled out two more runs, feeling slightly better about actually riding the dreaded roots at the bottom of the rake ‘n ride (look at me, using downhill-biker terms!) on my second go of it.

When I showed up Sunday morning for race day, I started rhythmically completing my race stages, only to find out partway through that the timing had malfunctioned for “Hemlock Epoch,” one of the trails I had ridden first (to get it out of the way), and that everyone would need to re-ride it. I was disappointed, in part because I was tired of pedaling a heavy bike up the same trail over and over, and in part because I had actually felt really good about my first run down Hemlock. Still, I got in line, re-rode it, albeit less smoothly than the first time, and continued on with my intended order of stages.

In the end, if there was a prize for first rider to complete all four (five, if you count the repeated run of Hemlock) stages, I might have won. I might even have gotten top five for most-improved in the course of a single weekend. More importantly though, I got to see some incredible women absolutely SHREDDING, and see a side of the sport that I don’t usually get to participate in. I got the chance to see some major holes in my descending game, and the opportunity to ride some pretty cool trails.

Since that cold weekend in November, I’ve made some time to work on some of those weak areas. I’ve spent time sessioning corners on the big bike, made some set-up adjustments to my bike’s suspension and fit, and ridden some backcountry trails with “the guys” that pushed me to the edges of my comfort zone (in a good way). Who knows… maybe this won’t be the last that gravity sees of me!