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I couldn’t tell you much about the rest of the surroundings as my eyes remained deadlocked on the ground in front of me.
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The initial few hundred feet was a smooth and flowing red-dirt singletrack. I hung back, nervously shifting my weight from side to side before lifting my feet to the pedals. They’d never been mountain biking before either, but they know a trailhead when they see one.ĭustin doled out his single sentence of instruction and sped off with my husband and the dogs close behind. I nervously rode in circles in the parking lot as my dogs whined in anticipation. We drove up through the sandstone pillars and winding desert washes to a trailhead north of town. So, when our friend – a Moab resident and skilled mountain biker himself – offered to round up a couple bikes for us one afternoon, I leapt at the chance. And it was just one more way to move through the landscapes that had moved me so deeply. It was just one more way to try and tire out those two crazy dogs of mine. The initial drive to start mountain biking came about the way most any of my ideas come about. Atop my head, a rounded blue rock climbing helmet.īefore I had even stepped my feet to the pedals of my borrowed bike, it was devastatingly apparent to any and all passers-by that I had never done this before. I looked down at my feet, wiggling my toes inside brightly colored wool socks tucked beneath Chaco sandals. That’s the first and last thing my friend, Dustin, said to me before disappearing between the junipers down a mountain biking trail in Moab, Utah. “Trust your bike and stay off the brakes.” Why I Mountain Bike Alone Mountain Biking Made Me a Stronger, More Independent Woman by BRIANNA MADIA, Liv Advocate, Van Lifer, Dog Mom