cycling — Blog - Joshua Forester

Foreward: Pre-Riding Karlos Rodriguez Bernart's Huracan 300

We had hit the aptly-named Drunken Monkey Trail just as the sun had set, and oh boy what a trail. The gpx route was a mess, and we had no idea if we were going in the right direction because there were so many damn switchbacks. All the while I’m just laughing and screaming at how ludicrous this trail is. I would deathgrip the bars with no braking going down each steep hill so I could preserve momentum to get up the equally steep uphill. Joshua did something similar, but the noise of his fully-loaded handlebar and seat bags’ tire rub replaced my screams and laughs. By hills, these inclines and declines were so rapid as to take less than a few seconds each, but the grade was always at least 20% or more. It was all so absurd to do on fully loaded mountain bikes; this seemed like a trail for dirt jumpers.

GRIT. GETS. IT.

It was time to redefine my plan. I knew I was competing against guys riding e-bikes and those who rode regularly in group rides where they could benefit from drafting off of other riders. While I did now have a newer, faster bike, it does not have electronic-assist, nor do my work hours allow me to join others for group rides. All my miles were into a headwind governed by my pedaling speed. I had my Weapon; I needed to wield it.

Atlanta Biketober 2018

It meant leaving work to start a ride at 7pm and finish in the chill of 1am. It meant being sent over the handlebars in the middle of the night, spraining my wrist, and acquiring a little road rash in the process. It meant dealing with rigid and sore muscles for the first ten miles of a ride before they finally loosen up enough to feel normal again. It meant limping around the office with Neosporin helping to heal my nether regions from the saddle sores only to re-chafe them later that evening. It meant withstanding all of the aggression and road rage motorists in Atlanta could muster. It meant riding no less than 3 hours a day the final week for 7 days straight. It meant blowing through 10 tubes, 8 spokes, 4 brake pads, 2 wheels, and over 10 gallons of water while riding. It was suffering for the sake of competition with no reward save that which most benefits us more than money—pride.