I have a hard time saying no. Let’s just get that out of the way. Even when I recognize I’m in too deep, something in the old melon says, meh, you got it. And on a recent trip to Brevard, NC, that voice was talking often. I had been invited out by Specialized to spend four days on a yet-to-be-announced secret bike. If the new rig was to be anything like the AWOL I knew it would be one not to miss, so of course I said yes. Word was we'd have three days in the saddle, covering a couple hundred miles on tarmac, dirt, gravel, etc in and around DuPont State Forest and Pisgah National Forest. Seemed mellow enough.
On the flight out that confidence became a bit brittle though—there’s just something about air travel that seems to encourage intense introspection and objective thinking. Staring out at the Appalachian Range from 30k feet I began to consider what lay ahead. The rest of the crew would likely be accomplished cyclists with decades of experience off-road. I, on the other hand, have spent most of my two-wheeled life firmly on pavement. And being from Brooklyn, my most aggressive ride of recent record barely broke the quarter century mark. In recent years my track bike has been relegated to a wall hanger in favor of a too-shitty-to-steal single speed with a coaster brake. Still, jousting for lane position with New York City cabs and dodging German tourists on Citi Bikes on the reg certainly counts for something, right? With no one to discount my reasoning I chalked the self-questioning thoughts up to a lack of sleep and recycled air, and focused on imagining wtf North Carolina would look like.