Taking a break from the high intensity of mountain biking can be a great way to appreciate the landscapes and nature around you. Smelling the flowers and taking in the scenery can help you connect with your environment and find a sense of calm. Remember, it’s not always about speed and adrenaline, sometimes the most meaningful experiences come from slowing down and enjoying the moment.
I’ve recently done something big: after finally making my peace with quitting a 25-year mountain biking career, I’ve bought another bike. I quit last year following (yet another) major accident and couldn’t justify another round of rehab and pain – so I sold my bike and told myself I was OK with it. I even took up trail running as a poor substitute.
My reasoning was this: the problem with continuing to ride was that it meant putting myself in harm’s way each time I got on my bike. For years, I’ve pushed faster and harder, aiming to get faster Strava times, master technical challenges, and push my limits. That was fine until it wasn’t.
But mountain biking, it turns out, was a cornerstone of my mental health. Just not the way I thought it was…
The Need for Speed
Don’t get me wrong, watching good riders go fast is incredibly exciting. EWS and DH at the World Cup level are astounding, and the level of technical ability, precision, and bravado shown by top riders is impressive as hell. The problem is that, like most MTB riders, I’m not that good (and never will be).
My lack of skill hasn’t stopped me from trading good form for speed though. For years, I’ve kidded myself that going fast equaled being a good rider, so rather than working on my skills, I just pushed harder. This got even worse when Strava came along and gave me an objective record of my rides, including how fast I was riding against myself and others because now I was putting in that extra pedal stroke and actually sacrificing form to go a teensy bit faster.
Even worse, the thought of slowing down to session a tricky bit (and improving my skills) became upsetting, because my segment time would be slower. Basically, because I thought that being fast meant being good, that’s what I focused on.
After a long break from riding, when I really examined what mountain biking did for me, it turns out that it wasn’t about speed at all.
The Costs of Speed
But pushing to go faster (especially without the corresponding skills development) came with some major downsides. I crashed more (with increasing time off the bike due to injury – and my eventual decision to quit altogether), I started to stress out when I wasn’t consistently beating my PBs and moving up the Strava ranks, I found other riders more irritating (especially if they got in my way).
I stopped enjoying being out in nature and appreciating my surroundings (and never stopped to look at the view), and I stopped having as much fun – mountain biking became serious because I was always in competitive mode (despite not even competing). Worse, any short-term enjoyment I got from beating a previous time was short-lived: I just want to go faster next time.
The Joy of Slowing Down
After a long break from riding, when I really examined what mountain biking did for me, it turns out that it wasn’t about speed at all. Mountain biking was my reason to do the things I love: getting into the bush and spending time in nature, connecting with people I like, making new friends, and spending meaningful time by myself.
Without mountain biking, all of these things got harder (so I did them a lot less) – and without regular access to the things I loved, I noticed myself getting more stressed. It turns out that I’d given up on my main form of joy and stress release because of my need for speed. So, I came up with another solution: what if I learned to slow down?
Slowing down doesn’t actually mean going slow – it means riding within our limits, focusing on technique over speed, taking time to enjoy being on a bike in nature (including stopping to take in the views), and making something we love more sustainable by reducing risk and maximising enjoyment.
Deliberately slowing down helps us connect with the natural world in a way that very few other people can.
It turns out that, when we slow down, we get access to a lot more. Giving ourselves time to notice what’s around us gives us proper contact with the psychological benefits of being in nature.
It also gives us access to other psychologically beneficial experiences: the opportunity to be more mindful, and proper experiential immersion, increasing the likelihood of a flow experience. In short, slowing down allows our mountain biking to be about the quality of experience rather than numbers, social approval, and short-term feedback loops.
I wish I’d been able to give myself this advice as a younger rider. Falling into the “speed equals good” trap early on in my riding career made me take shortcuts, and focus on the things that made riding more stressful rather than more fun. Giving myself permission to enjoy riding rather than rating my performance each ride would have resulted in a lot more enjoyment and, ironically, made me a better rider.
Of course, there are plenty of riders who really are that good. They ride with skill and speed that the rest of us can only envy, and they probably have a lot of fun doing it. For the rest of us though, riding needs to be about more than going fast – deliberately slowing down helps us connect with the natural world in a way that very few other people can. Slowing down helps us genuinely appreciate the experience of mountain biking.
This article follows a series of previous articles about making mountain biking more fun and sustainable – you can read them here; How to Age Gracefully, My Changing Relationship with Mountain Biking, To Strava or Not to Strava.
Featured photo: ©Nathanael-Desmeules
