| Family Vacations, Summer 1996|
Inside Skinny | Staying Safe | Essential Gear
My entire family bikes. It all started about ten years ago when my dad bought a bike to stay in shape and persuaded my mom to try it. She did-and got totally psyched. Dad is still a fitness rider, but Mom loves to compete. She's rated Category III on the roads and races beginner on mountain bikes.
I take full credit for getting her into mountain biking: I was tour racing on the roads by the time I was six. Then, three years ago (I was 11), I got my Cannondale N300, and that was it. There's nothing better than clicking into high gear and pedaling down hills. I live to catch air, and I even like the uphills (pain is good). Sure, I crash; I've even trashed a few helmets in my day. I ride hard (after all, I'll heal--but not irresponsibly.
As a matter of fact, I actually find myself worrying about my parents when we ride together. While I don't think twice about crashing, I really don't want them to get hurt (and they rarely do). But I find myself bombing along, getting way out ahead, then stopping until I have them in view.
I'm proud of them, especially my mom. I don't know many other riders who are as hard-core as my mom. There are times when she's been riding, dressed in her gear, and drops something off at school for me. The other kids think she's pretty cool. So do I.
Copyright 1996, Outside magazine