The Equaliser

Some days sneak up on you and quietly redefine what joy feels like.
Today was one of those days.

We hired e-bikes and rode the Blue Derby trails…the kind of terrain that demands respect. The first few minutes felt strange, almost like I was cheating on the pure form of mountain biking. But then something shifted. The assist wasn’t robbing me of effort….it was giving me access. Suddenly the climbs weren’t a grind, they were an invitation. The forest opened up.

I found myself riding differently, smoother, looser, more present. I was still working, still sweating, but my eyes were up. I saw things I usually blast past in a blur: the ferns unfolding like green fireworks, moss slick over granite, the way the air cools under the canopy and thickens with the scent of rain. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just enduring the climb…..I was in it.

The e-bike became a great equaliser.
Normally, I’m the bloke they’re waiting for on the uphill. Today, I was right there with them….in cadence, in conversation, in flow. That feeling….of not being the lagging one, not the “downhill guy” catching up…..it hit me harder than I expected. It made the ride whole.

And it made me notice something else, how much we’ve all changed.

Eoin, once hesitant and cautious, used to ride like the mountain might bite. Now he’s attacking lines with confidence, throwing himself into corners that would have scared him once. There’s pride in seeing a mate evolve like that….not from competition, but from the shared journey. It’s proof that courage can be learned, and that fear, once faced, becomes fuel.

Then there’s Brendo. Riding behind him is like watching precision engineering. Every corner, every brake, every weight shift….deliberate. He rides with a surgeon’s mind. I ride on instinct and feel, chaos and flow. And somehow, those two ways of moving through the world….intellect and intuition….find harmony on the trail.

Fifty-odd kilometres later, we rolled into the pub wrecked and buzzing. Sweat dried into salt on our skin, hands sore, hearts still thumping with the rhythm of the day. We ordered beers and let the conversation wander….wives, love, sex, ageing, legacy. Heavy topics, but not heavy in tone. There’s a freedom in speaking truth among men who’ve earned each other’s respect through shared risk.

That’s the beauty of these trips. They’re not just about the riding.
They’re about the alchemy of men in motion….the way physical effort strips away pretence until only honesty remains. When you’ve pushed your body to its edge, what’s left is real conversation, raw laughter, and quiet gratitude.

Days like this don’t happen by accident. They’re crafted….carved out of responsibility and routine, set up with intent, built from the shared understanding that adventure keeps us awake.

In that Tasmanian forest, surrounded by ferns and fog and friends, I realised something simple but profound
We spend most of our lives trying to master things. But some experiences aren’t meant to be mastered….they’re meant to move through us.

Mountain biking, like friendship, isn’t about control. It’s about flow…trust, surrender, presence. You don’t conquer the mountain any more than you conquer life. You meet it. You dance with it. You respect it.

We’re older now. The muscles ache longer. The recovery takes time. But in the rush of that ride, in the sound of tyres biting dirt, I felt something that doesn’t age….the pulse of freedom, the brotherhood of risk, the gratitude for bodies that still answer the call.

We’re not invincible anymore. But we’re alive.
And on days like today, that’s more than enough.