Thanks to an Instagram post by Joe Stone, I was awarded a very generous grant from the Kelly Brush foundation to help me purchase an adaptive mountain bike. How I got here took a few steps, so I want to tell you the story. If you know me, you know I tell long stories. This is because stories need a beginning, middle, and end. Context is import. So, bear with me here…
Before my accident I was more of a road biker than a mountain biker. I preferred the grind of pedaling on pavement (especially uphill) and would dread the downhill section, which I always took at a conservative (“grandma”, to some) pace at the back of the group. Falling off a bike at speed scared me. So when I tried mountain biking it was a huge battle with that fear and my ego. It didn’t help that I was using a borrowed bike that was too big for me and going on trails that were decided not beginner. There was a good amount of walking and falling. I wouldn’t say it was fun. But it was challenging, beautiful and scary, and I like those things as well.
I decided to give it a try after my accident. And though I was, again, enamored of the setting (I rode in the hills of Park City, UT behind the National Ability Center) I didn’t feel a spark. I tried a bike that put my legs straight out in front of me. It was a monstrously huge bike with two sets of handle bars — one for steering and one for pedaling — and I was constantly messing up the transition between them. It didn’t feel elegant. Overall, a definite ‘no.’
So, fast forward to San Diego. I was excited to meet some of the locals I knew through adaptive surfing. I ended up arranging a test ride on Jeramy McGhee’s bike. He offered because he is the distributor for Sport-on, a company in Poland that makes a variety of hand cycles. His bike had a completely different posture than I tried before. It put me in a crouch position where I was resting on my knees and pedaling with my arms below me, at my chest. I spent about 10 minutes on his bike at a local trail. This was enough to make me curious, again.
But then came the precipitating event, one of true poor impulse control. Joe Stone posted an invitation to attend an adaptive mountain bike meet-up at Wydaho Rendezvous in the Tetons. It included free attendance, bike rental, group camping, and all meals. It sounded too good to be true. The meet-up was two weeks away. I wanted to go, despite having very little positive data on mountain biking (and some indicating it wasn’t for me). Plane tickets to Jackson Hole were too expensive, so I asked Ben if he wanted to drive 14 hours to the Tetons with me over Labor Day weekend. And Ben said yes. (I will forever be grateful for Ben’s willingness to accept and support all my schemes and bad ideas.)
Our next goal was to get the van ready for the trip. We had done very little to it since we found out we were moving and nothing to it since the move. It was pretty much an empty box with some plywood that was cut to fit the bottom. A mattress sat on the floor but was warped by the wheel wells on both sides. Over the next 14 days we attached and finished the sub-floor and put in a bed. I made thermal black-out curtains that velcro to the windows and Ben installed a new steering wheel with cruise control. Impressive, right? And so we were ready for the biggest trip in the van, yet.
Road trips are much easier when you carry a safe, protective home on your back. The snails have it figured out, I think. When we’re tired we pull over to any gas station, put up the curtains, and crawl into a queen-sized bed. Ben installed a rotating passenger seat so I can just spin 180 for access to the back.
We left Thursday night and arrived in the Tetons Friday evening. I started grinning as soon as we were within sight of the mountains. I love that part of the country and immediately felt that we made the right choice. And then we ate chili from a vat with about 50 other adaptive riders and an army of volunteers. The event was put on by a number of organizations: Teton Adaptive Sports, National Ability Center, Oregon Adaptive Sports, and Dream Adaptive Recreation from Montana. I was excited to meet so many adaptive athletes, including many that I knew from social media.
On Saturday it was time to bike. I had a great time on a cross country ride in the morning. The bike I was renting — the Bomber from ReactiveAdaptations — was much smaller and lighter than Jeramy’s but also had the same aggressive posture. It was a full-body workout to ride. Though it was an arm bike, I was using much more of my back and abs to generate power. And I was using my legs to cushion through the bumps and throw my weight to help steer. Going downhill head-first took some getting used to.. but overall I liked it. Though after the hill climbing my arms were limp and noodly by lunch time. I had a strong suspicion that I wasn’t going to last another cross-country ride in the afternoon, so I signed up for a downhill lesson. I wasn’t nervous until we were on the chair lift. Then I suddenly felt committed. Was this going to be way over my ability level? Could I just descend at a crawling pace? What if I flew off the trail? Did I even know how to use this thing?
Despite having zero need for speed and no previous interest in this portion before, I had just skipped the rewarding work of climbing and was simply facing the descent. Head first. It helped that there were as many volunteers as there were riders. Ben was right next to me on his bike. So, down I went. And suddenly I was making little happy woo-hoo noises and laughing. The trail chosen for us beginners was perfect: a banked turn, then a long traverse section with rollers where you can dump speed, and then another turn, and then more traversing. It felt like we were going down for a long time. I clutched the breaks the whole way. But I loved it. I saw the potential in it. With a little bit of practice I could be going about the same pace as Ben on the downhill. We could also go “hiking” together through rough terrain. With every lap I gained confidence and speed. I even caught a little air on one of the rollers and really enjoyed the minuscule taste of weightlessness. I guess that was it, I was addicted.
Saturday night the volunteers fed us tacos and each person shared their individual battle. There was the motocross athlete, who was also a huge mountain biker, riding his new bike for the first time after a high level injury. He was frustrated by expectations and unforeseen challenges. I talked a lot to a lady who was less than a year out from her T-level injury while mountain biking. She was just struggling to accept her new life. Nothing felt right. There was a person there for a second year in a row with a long and complicated medical history who had a pretty tough outer shell but was always very self-conscious about struggling. We were so very very different but all needed these specialized tools and our marginalized status brought us together.
On Sunday I did two downhill sessions. The beginner group graduated to more advanced trails. Towards the end I was struggling just to keep hold of the handle bars. I went from zero arm biking to two full days at elevation that weekend. And I got a new hobby for my trouble.
Mountain biking was a new thing to want, but not have. Because being an adaptive athlete is out of my budget. My road bike was four thousand dollars. My surf board, which I got used and I was extremely lucky to get, cost $800. And an adaptive mountain bike costs about 10k. Finding one used is nearly impossible. So we drove home and I looked for places that rented them out. The closest was in Mammoth. I was excited to give it another try so Ben and I took a another road trip and I tried a fourth kind of mountain bike. And then I wrote up all of my experience and applied for a Kelly Brush equipment grant.
You guys already know the happy ending — I was awarded a grant to cover more than half the bike. I don’t think I would have gotten here without an impromptu road trip to the Tetons. Or without Ben’s support. A new bike now seems tantalizingly close, though a month ago I thought it would be a years before I could raise enough funds. And two months ago I didn’t know I wanted one. Reflecting back on all of this is a great way for me to cultivate gratitude. And, again, to see how unlikely participating in adaptive sport is, and how key people and organizations make it all possible. It reminds me of how I got into surfing — another series of fortunate events that shepherded me quickly from complete ignorance to owning a board and winning second place in a surf competition all over one summer. I can’t wait to see what’s next for me and a bike.