Column: Stuck In A Rut

Stuck in a rut? Steven Menmuir’s been stuck in them all and reckons they can all be bunnyhopped out of, physically and metaphorically.

A sk most people about being stuck in a rut and they’ll tell you about a crap job they once had or a relationship that had lost its spark. But if you ask your riding friends the same question, they’ll probably tell you about the time they were flying down a descent only to find themselves locked into a terrifying tyre trap which had appeared from nowhere (hidden in the extra-lush grass) and left them gripped with fear. The story will more than likely culminate in a spectacular crash (cushioned by the extra-lush grass) or a sublime sideways hop to safety. So, for most people, being stuck in a rut is a bad thing but for some of us it can be a Land Rover/motorbike created monster that sucks you in, makes your heart beat that little bit faster and by the end of it you’re be buzzing. And once you’ve gathered yourself again, you’ll be telling everybody that will listen about your near miss or amazing escape. But even though we’re always taking it to the max (and sometimes we’re taking it to A&E) or going from one adventure to another, we are all susceptible to the proverbial rut. Some of you reading this now may be stuck in a rut and not yet know it. I spent a lot of last year in a rut. To quote folk singer Tom Rush, I felt like ‘some old engine that’s lost its driving wheel’. I was riding the same trails again and again, trying to get the miles in for the same marathons again. I was finding that I was having to make myself get out on my bike, and I just wasn’t having as much fun as I should have been. Then in the spring of this year I was on my way to a job and I spotted the beginnings of a trail just a couple of miles from home. It was in an area that I’d never explored and as soon as I had an hour to spare I was out the door and down the road to the gap in the wall that marked the start of the trail. Could it be there was a whole new world of woods waiting for me? I was so excited that I sped past the start, but soon realised my mistake and barely ten minutes after leaving home I was climbing up new and blissfully dry (hey, it was springtime) singletrack. I was encouraged to go faster by the excitement of the unknown as much as the slightly downward gradient. Corners were carved, roots were rumbled and the deadly looking chute was left for when I could come back with

reinforcements. I pressed on, discovering even more trails, each one gratefully received like a long overdue gift. It culminated in one of those perfect bits of trail where you can live out those Speeder-bike moments of your childhood. This mountain biking spark was fuelled further when introduced to friends of a friend who shared the same passion. Riding old, overly familiar trails with new people can show you lines that you have ridden past hundreds of times before and in turn these new lines can open up even more possibilities. And there’s the social aspect of a ride. New companions have their own tales to tell and are happy to listen to us retell some old favourites. Some of my new riding buddies are much more daring than me and just by following them I found myself riding down stuff that I’d only slid down on my backside before. This particular aspect was probably only possible because of a third change in my riding. After five years of riding an old school aluminium race hardtail, I decided it was time for a change. Nothing too radical, but the popularity of long travel steel hardtails struck a chord somewhere inside me. They had the slightest resemblance to the bikes that I remembered from my youth, but with some dirty big forks on them. You can call it a ‘mid-life crisis bike’ if you like, but it’s put a bloody great grin on my face. So what next to keep this love alive? Well I think I’m getting to know these new trails, which must mean that it’s time for them to see the light of my Lumicycle lights. There’s nothing like night riding to spice things up. There are some old trails that have been a bit neglected this year and I’m sure while we’re out there I’ll get shown some more. Plus there are all those bits of trail that I didn’t think I could ride before that I’ll be trying again with my new bike and newfound confidence. And if things ever start to feel a bit too easy and those ruts don’t excite the way they used to then I could always dust off the old bike and its rather undernourished forks. While I’m at it I may try getting rid of 26 of its gears and enter the kind of races where drinking is done before, during and after. Maybe I could find those old flat bars, try some semi slicks, borrow Andy’s ‘cross bike, try downhilling for a day, go bivvying or just put the kettle on and get out the maps.

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