Bombing Trails and Emptying the Head: Why Mountain Biking Keeps Me Sane

There’s something primal about tearing down a trail at speed - freehub zinging, trees flashing past in a blur, the rush of wind clawing at your jersey. It’s not just motion; it’s momentum. It’s not just speed; it’s release. For me, mountain biking isn’t just a hobby. It’s therapy. It’s movement, breath, risk, and laughter all rolled into one gritty, glorious ride.

I’ve surfed since I was a teenager. I’ve travelled all over the world chasing waves....chasing that feeling of freedom and exhilaration that only the ocean can give. And I loved every minute of it. Those years, those experiences, shaped me. But then I wrecked my shoulder. Couldn’t shake the injury, and eventually, I had to step away from surfing to heal. That healing process led me to riding....first as rehab, just to strengthen and get mobility back. But something clicked.

That’s when I realised riding was like surfing... but better. I could ride every trail with my mates hot on my tail, pushing each other, ragging on each other, laughing, yelling, running amok like kids again. Surfing had always been a solitary, intense experience for me....beautiful, but personal - even with friends. Riding brought that same feeling, but with an added layer: community. Brotherhood. Shared chaos. And that changed everything.

I still surf when I’m alone, when I need that quiet, that connection to something bigger. But these days? I’d rather ride with the lads. For the wildness. For the fun. For the shared stoke that comes from conquering a sketchy line or grinding a tough hill together. That sense of community - that’s what keeps me coming back.

I do some of my best thinking with mud in my hair and adrenaline in my veins. It’s strange....the faster I go, the quieter my mind gets. The fear doesn’t paralyse me, it sharpens me. The climbs grind me down just enough to strip away the mental clutter. And the descents? That’s where I come alive. There’s no room for doubt when you’re airborne. No space for anxiety when you’re threading a line through roots and rocks at full speed.

The fear isn’t overwhelming....it’s cleansing. That hit of adrenaline when you send a jump or drop into a sketchy bit of trail and save a stack.. it resets the system. It’s a jolt back into the present. A reminder that you’re still alive, still capable, still hungry for the kind of challenge that puts everything else in perspective. It’s not about conquering the trail....it’s about meeting it, head-on, heart open.

And here’s the bonus.....it’s fitness without the monotony. I’ve never been one to grind out hours on a road bike or count laps in a pool. But give me a trail, a bike, and a couple of mates, and I’ll push myself until my legs scream and my lungs burn (which happens often)....and I’ll love every second of it. You get fit, but it feels like play. You burn stress, but it feels like freedom. It’s the kind of workout that doesn’t feel like work.

Riding with mates only amplifies it. There’s something about shared risk, shared suffering, and shared stoke that binds you. We hoot, holler, talk shit, and rag on each other like brothers. We wait at the bottom of the trail, grinning like idiots, replaying the sketchy bits and the near misses. Then we grab a coffee, debrief the ride, and sometimes dive into the kind of honest chat that only comes after you’ve pushed your body and cleared your head.

It’s not just about the trails. It’s about connection. About brotherhood. About joy. About being fully in your body and out of your head. About doing something that demands all of you - your focus, your strength, your courage - and then gives you back more than it ever takes.

And when you talk about it with other blokes who ride... they get it. You don’t have to explain. There’s a knowing nod, a shared grin. We all know. And that’s why it matters.

So yeah, mountain biking keeps me sane. Keeps me grounded. Keeps me ready to show up better - at home, at work, in life. It’s not just a sport. It’s a reset button. A reminder of who I am when the noise is stripped away.

So fellas... get a hobby. Something that burns you out and leaves you clean. Something that connects you to others and reconnects you to yourself. Something that makes you breathe hard, think less, and feel more. Because you sure as shit won’t find that on the couch or in front of the TV.

Thats living life full throttle.

That’s living true.