Why Do I Ride?

Please take note that this isn't called 'Why I Ride'. The reason for this is that I had a shaking of my faith recently. I am not an adrenalin junkie. I don't do 'big air' or 'gnarly jumps' or 'epic descents'. I even gave my If it's too steep, you're too old t-shirt to Goodwill during this year's spring cleaning. I like a more PG-rated version of mountain bike trails. More like high-speed hiking. Long winding trails with rolling hills and lush surroundings. Trails that allow me to become immersed in the woods. Not trails that constantly have me fretting if the next obstacle will be the one that shatters my collarbone. Or a trail with two-story downs with a 45-degree corner at the bottom. Or bouncing over protruding rocks (the insider term is 'baby-heads'), roots, and logs until my spine is numb. My faith in my own desire to ride, as well as my ability as a mountain biker were called into question yesterday when, upon arriving at my favorite trail, I discovered that the trail is now closed to mountain bikers. Alas, I suspected this day was coming. The network of trails that I have been riding in Greenbush were originally solely for cross-country skiers. When mountain bikers starting showing up en mass, locals decided the area needed 'proper' mountain bike trails. My hat's off to the group of advocates that planned, mapped, and built the 12-15 miles of new single-track. It's beautiful and I'm sure it will stand as a benchmark of trail building in the area. BUT, it's not what I had come to the kettles to ride. I decided not to play the renegade and ride my favorite, albeit closed, trail. I studied the map and opted for loops 1, 2, and 3. Loop four is still under construction, and I had planned on a ten-mile ride. The three loops totaled what appeared to be a little over eight. The trails were really rough, winding and technical. I was on X-cal and getting bounced all over the place. The new single track isn't as well marked as it's cc trail cousins. I ended up way out of bounds on what I can only assume was the unfinished Loop 4. I walked practically as much as I rode. I was timid on the downs and ill-prepared for the ups. If I am ever to strap on a number again, I was definitely going to need to buck up. I was grateful when it was over, 12 miles and an hour and fifteen minutes later. I leaned my bike up against the jeep and glared back at the trail-head. "Now what am I going to do?" I asked the still cool morning air. At one point during the ride I even considered selling my garage and going back to road biking. At least a road is a road is a road, right? No, that wasn't an option. I would either come back here with the right tool for the job -- Sugar or Pro-cal -- and ride this beast until my confidence is restored, or I'd find a new trail. The Kettle Moraine National Forest has literally hundreds of miles of trails. I belong on a bike and I belong in the woods. I have called a lot of trails home since I took up this sport. There have got to be some 'high-speed hiking' trails out there somewhere. Now I just have to decide where to call home.