Surrendering to gravity
By Suzanne Johnson
So … do you ever, um, clean these things?” I ask, taking the helmet, shin guards, and chest pads being offered to me. “Maybe a little Lysol?” The gear guy stops and sizes me up before replying, “You probably don’t want to know.”
He’s right, I think, as I strap on the body armor, ignoring the musty stench of all the sweaty boys who’ve rented these items before me—just like I’m ignoring the ambulances around the corner, inconspicuously waiting for customers. I am in Whistler, British Columbia, a mecca for downhill bikers, where riders decked out like gladiators hurl themselves down alpine trails, dropping off boulders and careening across split-log bridges. Truth be told, I am more than a little nervous.
Downhill bikes are the monster trucks of the biking world. My hefty rental has a full 8-inch travel in the suspension—apparently size does matter. Rolling my beefy machine out of the shop, I feel transformed. I’m gladiator woman! I’m storm trooper! I am nuts! I join my husband and three sons at the Garbonzo Express for the first ride up.
Downhill biking is dominated by males today, but I’m guessing this will evolve. From the first descent down Blue Velvet to Smoke and Mirrors, my body quickly learns this sport is more about finesse than raw power. How far to lean on a curve, where to shift your weight, when to pedal, and when to glide—the center of balance is everything and can only be learned by trial and error. Mastering technical details, whether rolling a boulder or riding a teeter-totter, sparks an exhilarating rush that’s more adrenaline than testosterone. Each successful run stretches my comfort-zone boundaries, leaving space for both confidence and endorphins to rush in.
The entire day, I was riding the edge on blue trails, but my family of ricochet rabbits itched to move on to bigger, more technical runs. We regrouped later that afternoon, with muscles weary but all bones intact, and swapped stories of best-ever runs and near-catastrophic saves. I returned my gear, now layered with another day’s well-earned sweat, and without hesitation signed on for another go tomorrow.
