Fat Lad Rides Again

This is why I ride; when good friends and riders radio in to let us know they’re running late and we take the opportunity to chat away, discuss new kit and how despite the weather the good turnout.

This is why I ride; with time fleeting and the sun escaping over the horizon we set off at break neck speed to compensate.

This is why I ride; splashing and grinding through the resulting mud of our British “summer” spinning the wheels, grinding the chain through Yorkshire grit laden gloop.

This is why I ride; exchanging pleasant cheery “Evening!” and “How do”s to the inexperienced couple braving the trails on bone shakers for smiles and knowing nods.

This is why I ride; the usually reliable Rock Shox upfront in desperate need of a service bouncing me from rut to groove with little control, but the grin’s still fixed firmly in place.

This is why I ride; standing in the twilight, living the surreal now, looking over the rural set of Emmerdale instead of watching it, sinking into the sofa to be passively entertained.

This is why I ride; the rock and granite bolder lined switch-backed descent pushing the limits of both bike and body rolling through intact on the other side.

This is why I ride; pushing my legs the best as I can, wrenching out every last joule of energy from Sunday Morning Epic tired limbs up the bridleway summit chaser.

This is why I ride; the three stooge-esque way we climb the gate through a field filled with cows. Cajoling a bovine fearing rider into the middle of the pack so we can carry on, the laughs and giggles of the approach fading into the night.

This is why I ride; for the climbs that I always find that last little bit for.

This is why I ride; for Jelly Babies and Special Hill Medicine. The mixture of sugar rush and burning chest an event always eagerly anticipated.

This is why I ride; sneaky cheeky pitch black light haloed swooping and sweeping paths, the rush of trail whirring beneath knobblies.

This is why I ride; post ride endorphins thinning out, the burning muscles and tired limbs are no comparison to the level of satisfaction radiating through my aching body.

This is why I ride; “You lot been out on the bike then!” says the pretty bar maid with a grin at the assembled muddy faces queuing up for ale to accompany the mountains of cake. The laughs and jokes flow like the ride as we shelter from the brisk night temperatures of British summer.

This is why I ride; standing in the piss dribble excuse of our shower scrubbing the salt and trail souvenirs from filthy skin. Trail buzz fading away in time to my diminishing ability to stay awake.

This is why I ride; because I need to. I have to. This is my fix. This is my reason to be. Where the mountain biker ends and I begin is a point lost forever. If you ever find it, keep it, I don’t want it back.

Fat Lad