I don’t often mention ‘enduro style’ mountainbiking in this blog. Mostly because I am too busy doing it to take pictures, but every two or three weeks I’l spend a day in the Welsh Valleys or the Forest Of Dean seeking out steep, technical tracks to chase my mates down. It’s easily the most fun thing I do with my time, and if really pressed on the choice I’d probably sooner never ride a road bike again than give up the trail bike.

It reminds me of the feeling I got when downhill skateboarding in my teens. It’s an adrenaline rush, but a calculated one. That’s my kind of fun. I’ve never seen the appeal in ‘aderenaline junkie’ bucket list stunts like skydiving or bungee jumping, what’s the point? you get in the plane, get strapped to some intructor, or jump off the platform. All you need is one moment of commitment, to something thats been tried and tested, and passed some health and safety protocol and inspections.

On the bike the thrill is of your own calculation. You’re bungee jumping, but you’re also the engineer who has to sign off the jump. Every risk assesment is your own, and you’re making them constantly. The only person telling you if you can get round that horrible steep rooty corner, over that jump, or down that chute, is you. Sure, you can try and remind yourself that others have ridden the trail and it must be possible, but in reality that’s about as much use as reminding yourself that Gordon Ramsay exists when you’ve just burnt your toast.

I’m blessed to have some incredible riding within an hour of my home, which is one of the many things I love about Bristol, but It’s good to get further afeild for some variety and longer runs. I’ve been on a few riding trips up to Innerleithen in the Scottish borders in the past, and headed up again last week, acompannied by friends and Ex bike industry colleagues Ollie, Anna, and Steve.

Anyone who’s been into mountainbikes a while and likes steep downhill tracks has heard of Caberston Forest, affectionately known as ‘The Golfie’ due to the golf course at the foot of the hill. The permitted building of trails here has led to a network of runs that are certainly some of the best in the UK, and are visited by riders from around the world.

I was apprehensive before this trip, having felt ‘off the boil’ on the big bike for a while, and witnessing a few friends suffer some big accidents in recent months. On top of this I’d always been blessed with dry conditions at The Golfie in the past, and it was looking wet and stormy. I was already imagining myself getting taken out by slick sniper roots left right and center. I’d bought a longer front mudguard and some fresh sticky tyres, but was still nervous. Not a good start.

Fast forward to the first days riding and somehow something had clicked. I’ve no idea what it was, but my confidence on the bike had taken a huge leap forward. I was following my pal Ollie into tracks that would have had me over braking and making a meal of them in the past and amazing myself by pretty much keeping up. Ollie is of those riders I’ve long had on a pedestal as being much better than I am, and almost not worth trying to keep up with. On another level. This is still very much the case, especially when things get super gnarly, but now I was finishing the trails a handful of seconds behind rather than the minutes it used to be when we began riding together, and when leading I didn’t sense I was holding him up like I used to.

After this had happened once or twice I began to beleive. I beleived I could keep up, and felt confident to lead steep gnarly runs blind when it was my turn. The only thing that had changed here was my mindset, trusting myself and riding aggressively. I hadn’t gained any new skills, I just woke up that morning with confidence, and beleived.

I had made a few small bike changes, having my suspension serviced before the trip and switching to the super soft compound purple striped Schwalbe tyres. These added some confidence, but the mindset was the real game changer. It’s mind boggling that you can chip away at the same sport for years on end and wake up one day and just do it better, but that’s how it felt.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not suggesting I’ve turned into Loic Bruni, and don’t want to give the impression that I’m hyping myself up as some sort of incredible rider, I’m not, but I sure felt like it when measured against my own experience, and it’s good to acknowledge those good feels.

Something I’m greatful to Ollie for is pushing my riding even when It’s the last thing I feel like I want. I’ve been on the brink of full on tantrums in the past, nervous, frustrated at having climbed a massive hill to something I couldn’t get back down, carrying my bike down things that look completely unridable only to embrace them as some of my favourite trails a few years on.

It’s a tough approach and not for everyone, but I’ve come to realise I benefit from being thrown in at the deep end, and it does happen less frequently. Only once on this trip on attempting a rocky ‘pro line’ trail called Wolverine, and I didnt get too pissy about it. My mum tells a story of dragging me to the deep end of the pool as a kid to get me to commit to swimming. It sounds harsh, but it worked, and I can swim. Just.

I think what I’m getting at there is that perhaps it’s good to be comfortable with being unfcomfortable. We learn and progress the most when we’re uncomfortable, whether it’s at the top of a scary bike trail, or in our first day at a new job or doing something out of our usual routine. I’l try and remember that. Mountainbike skills are life skills. It’s all the same mental gymnastics.

After the weeks riding I came away from the trip feeling better than I ever have in the past. Like I’d unlocked a new level. I was less fatigued, riding faster and better, with less effort, and more confidence, and incredibly I was having even more fun as a result. Something I didn’t expect, and am left hoping will stay with me next time I hit the trails.

Sometimes this blog feel like an echo chamber where I ramble on about my feelings, talk like some sort of (unqualified) zen sage, or scream into the void about joy of mountainbiking with no idea if anybody cares, but If you’ve read this far and are interested, grab a bike, go to the woods, get stuck in. Find someone who’ll show you the good stuff. One day you’ll be nervously trying to brake less on your local blue flow trail, and a few years later you’ll look back and be amazed how far you’ve come, the places you’ve been, the trails you’ve ridden. You’ll go to your old local woods and the bits that used to scare you will look like nothing. You’ll think you’ve gotten about as good as you’re ever likely to get, that the gnarlier trails are for other, braver, better riders, and then even after all of that, you’ll wake up one day in the Scottish borders and somehow feel smoother and more confident than yesterday, and you’ll love it. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.