Getting Started: My First Ride
WRITTEN BY richscottJuly 1st, 2025
How an out-of-shape 43-year-old found magic in mountain biking
August 5, 2016
I went out for a ride with friends on Seymour. I hadn’t ridden anywhere on the North Shore before. My imagination had run wild — I pictured a highlight reel straight out of bike magazines and YouTube clips.
Reality was different.
The Struggle
I wasn’t in top shape. Not even average shape. After more than a decade focused on work, business, and kids, I thought a few rides would get me back to “decent shape.” Classic example of being 43 but mentally thinking 23 wasn’t that long ago. Oh my.
I showed up on a Specialized Stumpjumper FSR with 26” wheels and a clunky 3x gearing system (where only the biggest ring actually worked). The bike was a generous birthday gift from my friend Lachlan, who was deep into triathlon training and knew mountain biking was more likely to hook me than road riding. He was right — eventually.
But that first day? Brutal.
By the time we reached Bridal Path — less than 10 minutes in — it was clear I was in way over my head. I was already walking my bike while my friends spun easily up the trail. My brain panicked: How are they riding this stuff when I can’t even pedal over a speed bump?
Naturally, I blamed my bike. They had 29ers with shiny 1x drivetrains. If only I had that, I thought, I’d ride like them. Then Steve swapped bikes with me, and I was humbled beyond imagination. The bike wasn’t the issue. I was.
The First Wins
Thankfully, instead of dragging me up Penny Lane and Good Sir Martin, Steve and Bobby detoured us to Old Buck, then up Baden Powell (where I mostly walked). The payoff was a descent down Forever After — terrifying in spots, but exhilarating whenever gravity worked in my favor.
The whole loop took me over two hours — a ride most people finish in about one. I loved it anyway. The sweat, the stress, the dirt, the breathlessness. It was the start.
Soon after, I fixed up my bike and started riding alone. That removed the pressure of keeping up and the embarrassment of walking sections. I called it an “emotional exhale.” I could finally enjoy the experience at my own pace.
Trailforks became my guide. Like ski runs, trails are marked green (easy), blue (medium), and black (hard). That helped me pick rides I could actually handle — and sometimes even enjoy.
The Upgrade
A year later, I bought a new (to me) Rocky Mountain Instinct BC Edition. More bike than I needed, but one of the best lessons I’ve learned:
“Buy more bike than you need. Nobody ever regrets it.”
I named her Hazel (short for Purple Haze, thanks to the paint). Like every new bike, she instantly made me feel 10–20 watts stronger.
I also made riding easier:
- Bought a Thule T2 Pro rack so loading and hauling was effortless.
- Organized all my gear in a single tub so nothing got forgotten.
- Invested in proper cold-weather gear — Specialized winter shoes, Castelli gloves, waterproof jacket.
These small things mattered. They reduced resistance. I could go from idea to out-the-door with almost no friction. That mindset has shaped both my biking and my business life: if you want to do something repeatedly, make it simple.
The X Factor
In the fall of 2017, I asked myself a question I often pose to business owners: What’s the one thing — the X Factor — that would make the biggest difference?
Sure, gym workouts, yoga, or better nutrition would help. But with limited time, I knew the answer was simple: just ride more.
So I committed to riding 150 times per year — about three times per week. Length and intensity didn’t matter. Consistency did.
That clear, specific goal transformed everything. My weeks had structure. Riding became a priority, not an afterthought. My sleep improved. My mental health improved. Riding became exercise, therapy, and meditation all at once.
The Magic
Over the years, my fitness and skills naturally improved. But the magic of riding has never faded. There really aren’t any bad days on the bike. The effort always trades up for joy.
I hope this quirky story of starting as an overweight, stressed-out 43-year-old gives you a chuckle — and maybe nudges you to “just ride more.”
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