After several months without it I start feeling a strong yearning. It’s something that I will never give up, something that I will always come back to. I may wonder off and enjoy something else for a while but I always return to mountain biking. There are many different ways and forms of riding; road, trail, rocky, rutty, hilly and flat. They’re all great in there own way I prefer some types over others, but when it comes down to the line it’s like nothing I’ve ever done before.
It’s deeply spiritual; it’s the intangible, a deep yearning within. I always come back to it. It was imprinted in me at a young age and I have enjoyed it every summer since. There is no combination of mountainous views, thrilling descents, or the pride that you get from reaching the summit of a climb. It’s all done in the wild thrill of nature, away from the stresses of every day life. When the ride is done, a warm banana waiting in the car never tasted so delicious. Or a three dollar burrito you can always manage to find at the Hicksville gas stations out in the wilderness of Mount Hood, St. Helens, Hag Lake, or the Tillamook Forest. Mountain biking is not about the bike, or gear or even the rider it’s all about the place the time, sun or rain, hot or cold.
That stream or lake is always waiting for you depending on the weather; you’re about to either get chilled to the bone’s or relieve yourself from the ninety degree sun that seems to keep finding ways to pierce through the trees and penetrate skin. Water is often the worst obstacle in the winter and your best friend in the summer on a mountain bike ride. No matter what hobby I take up next, or where I go in my life I will always return to the trails.
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