Alpha Clinic: Mountain Bike Sisterhood and Sherpas

Bike riding has always been an exercise of trial and error for me. I love it, but quite frankly I don’t know what the hell I’m doing most of the time. For example, I once bought a mountain bike at an auction with messed up brakes, and didn’t realize it until halfway up Sawmill Gulch. I also accidentally rubbed chain lube all over my nether region thinking it was chamois butter (I swear there was some semblance of logic involved). Obviously, I need all the biking help I can get, and the MT Alpha Bike Clinic was the perfect place to find it.

Check-in at the clinic on Saturday morning had a vaguely middle school fieldtrip feel. Women of all ages wearing spandex and clutching sack lunches searched for familiar faces and chatted nervously in small groups. Did we have the right equipment? Could we keep up with our group? What if we ended up crying, and needed to call home? It quickly became evident that even as tough mountain bike chicks, we all had fears and anxieties.

In fact, as the day progressed our group (intermediate 3) started to resemble a group therapy session. One 60ish woman was trying to overcome fear of falling after a bad shoulder injury. Another mother of two wanted to figure out breathing techniques and switchbacks (heck, we all needed help with switchbacks). It wasn’t about being the best and flying down Dropout a la Sam Schultz, it was about admitting our insecurities, and encouraging each other to overcome them. This was about clapping and whooping for one another and sharing dried apricots. This was about sisterhood. Mountain bike sisterhood.

Every group needs its ringleaders, someone who can walk the thin line between friend and limit-pusher. This is especially true when working with the special kind of independent obstinacy that characterizes many adventurous women, i.e. the “someone else needs to finish these dishes because I’m going for a ride” attitude. Directives needed to be loose suggestions instead of orders. One of our group members summarized this delicate relationship by stating bluntly, “hey man, if I don’t feel like doing something, I’m not doing it”.

Luckily, MT Alpha did a wonderful job of finding coaches whom epitomized this balance. All of them were pro or elite riders from around the state. Many were mothers and fathers, people with tons of experience both pampering and pushing. It was evident that they remembered the bottom, and they admitted to still struggle at times (although we didn’t see any evidence of this). Coach Adam Jensen calmly coaxed us through steep climbs, switchbacks, and pedal strokes. Coach Rose Grant offered us encouragement, how-to examples, and lots of motherly empathy. They were our mountain bike Sherpas.

At the end of the day, with a glass of delicious Ten Spoons sangria in hand, all of my previous worries seemed inconsequential. When we first arrived that morning my friend Sonja (and fellow MT Alpha) joked that it was like summer camp all over again, and said, “I hope I like everyone!” We all laughed because we knew exactly what she meant, and this is what is so fantastic about all-female bike clinics: every woman is there to challenge herself, every woman is there to face her insecurities, and most importantly, every woman wants to have fun. We all felt the same way, and we were all in it together.

Thanks again to all the amazing women (and a few men) who made this bike clinic happen. It was an incredible experience, and I can’t wait to do it again next year!

-Lara Nokleby, MT Alpha newbie and chain lube misuser.