Last Saturday we showed up en masse at the UCI World Pump Track qualifiers in Erie, CO. While the pros competed in the elite class for trips to worlds in China, we competed in the junior and masters classes for pride and joy in our hearts.

Nicole, Marty, Megan, Molly (holding Beau), me and Mason

The Erie pump track

Is a technical mix of turns, rollers and deep holes. They used the uphill part of the track for the start — killer for BMXers with blistering sprints, a special challenge for the MotoCranx chainless factory team.

It’s always amazing to watch the pros, but I’m a man of the people.

Marto rocks!

Marto is a good man and a hell of a rider. A $20 entry with no license needed made this his perfect first race. In juniors and masters we got two qualifying runs, with the fastest counting toward qualifying in the main brackets. Marto laid down a clean first run. 5th overall and they were taking the top 8. Solid.

Round 2 was from another planet. Bro stepped up to the challenge, hauling ass and manualing the deep holes (I taught him that :). He was on a killer run!! But alas, he wasn’t ready for how fast he can be, and he flew off the track.

That’s racing, folks.

His first run:

Mason is racin’

From the DNA of Marto comes young Mason, his shredder son. In practice Dad timed his laps on a trail bike, slope bike and a DJ bike with MotoCranx. That young dude is so beyond bad ass that he’s faster on MotoCranx, and that’s what he raced.

I told him, no sense working hard until you get over the hill. From there start pumping, line up the first turn and get after it! Get after it he did, but he didn’t make the big show against older more physically mature kids. Next year.

And this is where we see great parenting in action. Marto made the final but skipped his own race and took Mason to the professional Ultimate game where Mason played in the half time show.

“Racing for the MotoCranx Factory Team … Megan Wright!”

Fresh from her expert Sea Otter dual slalom throwdown, Megan straddled her vintage Gary Fisher hardtail with MotoCranx, doing the happy dance and showing everyone what joyful gratitude looks like.

No one is sweeter and nicer than Megan. That is until the timer starts running. Then it’s controlled rage and beautiful violence. I’d tell you she nailed two clean runs, but that would be redundant.

Perfect form on a sick bike with death metal focus.

Molly throws down

Qualifying was clean. Neat. Tidy. A massive comeback from the terrifying cardiac event that kept her home from Sea Otter. Two weeks before Otter and the day before we were gonna do starts at the BMX track I got a phone call.

“Lee, I’m home and there’s blood on my face.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Molly developed a cardiac condition during her years as a pro XC racer. She’s been asymptomatic for years. Her cardiologist gave her the green light to train for and race gravity events.

Thanks to her Garmin watch we know she was warming up on her neighborhood pump track when her heart went haywire. She fell hard, gave herself a concussion then rode home on the most circuitous and sketchy route possible.

While Megan and I enjoyed Otter, Molly was home recovering. She is strong and fit AF. She trained with a medical heart monitor. Did an athlete-level stress test. Saw the experts. The best they could tell her is we don’t know what made it happen, or will make it happen again.

What a way to live. So Molly trained with me, showed up and laid down two clean qualifying runs. She asked what I thought.

“First of all, you’re here. You’re here. It’s a beautiful day. You’re with people who love you. You just raced your bike like a boss. What a blessing. You’re here.”

I let that settle. Yes, she agreed, this is a blessing.

“That was beautiful riding. You should be 100% proud of yourself.” I paused. “Do you want to ride faster?”

“Yes,” she said.

“OK,” I said, “That was about 66% of what you have. Ramp up the intention, but not the tension. I think it’ll feel good to you. Life affirming.”

She agreed. I told her to warm up long and slow, then race short and fast.

And she did just that. Where the first two runs were clean and competent, her final run was intentional and powerful — a statement of intent.

“I am here.” Molly said with her riding.

Damn right. And I’m here with you.

Go Molly and Megan!!

“Pump track legend Lee McCormack is in the box!”

You can forgive me for feeling emotional at that event. Megan asked what I wanted to hear during my run.

“Metallica of course.”

As I entered the start box the announcer called out “Pump track legend Lee McCormack is in the box!” The DJ hit Master of Puppets (thanks Megan!) and the enormity of it all hit me.

Now that my shoulders are replaced and my upper body is huge, my legs are failing me. 18 months ago my hamstrings tore off the hip. I rehabbed on my PumpCycle with MotoCranx. A couple months ago the same hamstrings plus adductors and MCL pooped out. When the times comes I’ll accept the role of Obi Shred Kenobi cheering from the sidelines, but I still have some fight in me.

With motocross knee braces and a bike with no drivetrain I kicked myself out of the start box and into the wave. Heavy light left right. Everything clicked in a cycle of powerful intent. It was smooth, artful and 2 seconds faster than qualifying. Stoked!

I am here.

We are here.

Lee

Red shirts everywhere! Molly, me, E and Megan.

I was so ON POINT to race Sea Otter dual slalom and downhill this year with the Joyride Crew. Strength training bulked me up to 195 lbs of mostly muscle. Interval training boosted my VO2 max to a lifetime best of 53. I KOMed our local blue DH and was in the hunt on our local black DH. I started riding with no fingers on the brakes. It was going GREAT!!!

I raced my first Sea Otter slalom in 1995 — 31 years ago! I’ve seen some podiums but never the win. THIS IS MY YEAR!!!

We plan and the universe laughs.

A month ago I was transferring right to left between some dirt jumps and the bike came across really fast. That was the idea, but my adductor, hamstring and MCL said “Bro! You’re getting full of yourself!!” and staged a collective strain.

The muscles and tendons are healing OK, but the ligament lingers. It’s a … lingerment. Symptoms of age: weak connective tissue, weak puns.

With racing off the table, I focused on training Molly and Megan for their races. I’m a good bike racer because I try really hard. I’m a great bike coach because I’m made to do it. And I try really hard.

So I was at the dual slalom as Coach Guy, or more specifically gray-bearded guy on walking sticks, or maybe more specifically crazy-looking gray-bearded guy on walking sticks, or even more specifically crazy-looking gray-bearded guy on walking sticks trying to spread positivity among the stressed racers.

After pro practice was over, I saw one of the riders sitting down watching the experts. Ever Mr. Helpful, I walking-sticked over and said,

“Hey man, you looked really smooth out there.”

“Thanks!” he said and smiled very big. Too big.

I missed the hint and got specific: “Your lines are perfect. You’re making so much traction you can go quite a bit faster if you want.”

“Thanks,” he trailed off “… thanks Dad.”

OUCH!!!

The expert slalom race went awesome. Megan showed up to her first MTB race ever — on the biggest, rawest and most old school track in the world! — on her custom Dialed bike, which of course fits her perfectly, and rocked. More on that in a separate post.

After Megan’s podium ceremony (spoiler) my leg was like “OK Old Man you walking-sticked that hill 10 times today, go take a fiber pill and a nap.” I was exhausted, in pain, and proud of Megan.

I met her last Fall in an intro skills session. I told her, “You have a lot of potential in mountain biking. If you want to pursue it I’ll be honored to help you.” And here we are. Safe and stoked. It was a proud coach moment.

Just then a young man walked up.

“Hey Lee, we did a 2-hour session a few years ago.”

I remembered him instantly. He was a high level collegiate gravity racer who’d been crashing, and he was having huge confidence issues. As matters of the mind do, the lack of confidence spread to the rest of his life, and he was hurting. I remember him telling me, “I saw your videos and thought you might be able to help me.”

We went deep on the pump track. I told him, Your background in alpine ski racing is great prep. You already know the lines, the angulation, the pressure management and the speed. All you’re missing is the hinge. Simple is best because simple can be mastered. I said, “As long as you’re in a hinge, you’ll be great.”

Today he told me that advice stuck with him. He no longer has confidence issues, on or off the bike.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re very welcome,” I said.

With a hint of a tear in his eye he said, “Can I give you a hug?”

[Big bro hug.]

“You really helped me.”

I’ll chase the never ending shred as long as I can, trust me, but I know my purpose in mountain biking: It’s riding my path with full commitment, and helping others (who ask for help) ride theirs.

Have fun out there,

Lee

Do you want to ride better?

Book a Zoom with me and let’s talk about your riding needs.

We can work in person and/or online. Check out my skills library at www.llbmtb.com and my college textbook ridelogic.teachable.com.

Should MTB coaches spot their students?

The most common form of spotting places the coach next to a feature, where they can catch a falling rider.

In the most direct form of spotting I’ve seen, the coach holds a tether attached to the rider’s pack.

Keep reading for pros and cons of spotting.

Read more

Last week Molly and I worked some tiny rollers then used the same skill to flow some new, bigger jumps. Witness and learn:

Read more

I was scrolling along doodle-ee-doo, and this video popped up from Loamified.

Here I am pretending that Mountain Bike Skills Coach is a profession, taking my work way too seriously, planning college courses and everything, and … wow.

The man with the leash (he calls it a tether) is Brian Astell from ridetrailworks - “Learn to conquer any trail with confidence!”

The clip is from Astell’s Instagram feed, showing promotional highlights from a women’s only intermediate clinic. In his feed I saw only female riders on tethers.

Every woman I showed this to expressed shock that a coach would leash riders. Molly, an educated professional and hardcore mountain biker, said:

As a lifelong athlete in many sports from swimming, climbing, skiing, mountain biking, all the way to olympic weightlifting I have NEVER EVER seen or heard of a teaching technique in which the trainee/athlete is taught by being placed in a position in which she is not in complete control! All a tether would do in a mountain biking scenario is create disruption to the rider and her mechanics in which her natural instinct would be more correct than what a tether would impose.

A beginner rider’s natural reflexive instinct would be better, more correct and safer than being hooked up to a tether! One does not learn this way! An athlete learns by moving under their OWN POWER combined with fundamental natural human movements with correct coaching ques of weight the pedals, drop the heels, light hands, hinge low…etc. In this video the tether is imposing more forces on the rider to overcome that never occur naturally when riding down a feature. The riders are all getting pulled and yanked in different directions and not ever learning how the bike will handle naturally just under gravity and load.

I asked Astell to explain why he uses the tether technique, who he’s used it with, and how it helps the riders.

Astell sent some text and a video:

Hey Lee, hope you’ve been having a great day. I apologize this has taken so long. Here’s the vid with my input.

I’d say over the last about 10 years I’ve worked with around 10k people in person and this method has been one of the things that has tremendously expedited my rider’s progress because it allows safe reps in challenging situations.

I’ve used it with riders ranging in age from 9 - 68 and over this time period of using it it’s saved riders from some big crashes, both in relatively low consequence situations as well as much higher consequence situations.

At this point if we’re trying something new low speed and techy that could even possibly result in a crash, I have my riders use it at least the first time maybe even first few times and then we faze it out.

Here is a rock slab from In N Out Burger in Squamish where Astell used the tether with clients. This is very, very steep.

Taking riders to trails they can’t handle then putting them on a leash is so preposterous — such a violation of both MTB physics and coaching ethics — that I have to poke fun.

The leash is brilliant! What a way to boost confidence in scary situations. Afraid to ask for a promotion at work? Leash. Parent/teacher conference got you worried? Leash. Spending a weekend with your mother in law? Leash. I’m right here behind you with that reassuring “click.”

Just remember, you can’t do it without me.

Astell seems like a “cool bro” who believes he’s doing good work. I’d love to say right on bro do your thing and have fun, but there’s no way riders in this situation are giving informed consent. And:

Riders should trust their coaches. Watch the fear and tension on those leashed riders. To push a student to that point is a massive breach of trust and, in my experience as an expert witness, a violation that might nullify a boilerplate waiver.

I could explain why mountain bike coaches shouldn’t leash their clients, but I’ll leave that to the comments. Instead as someone who cares about mountain bikers, mountain biking and the profession of mountain bike skills instruction I offer:

To Coaches

If you take on the responsibility of teaching people how to ride their mountain bikes, I assume you’re a student of the sport, an intrinsically motivated teacher, and that you possess the intelligence, skills, insight, patience and empathy to prioritize the wellbeing of your students.

There is a better way. You can learn a logically sound curriculum, then teach it step by step with high attention to detail. You can empower your riders to make their own decisions and control their own bodies and bikes. You can celebrate the beauty of clean, safe riding at every level. No need for black diamond trails and big moves.

You can deliver effective, satisfying classes without endangering riders. You don’t have to rely on trauma bonding — inducing intense stress then a huge rush with you as the savior.

Study constantly and teach what you’ve mastered. Stand strong in your expert authority. Don’t allow riders to do things they’re not ready to do — no matter what the class schedule or their egos say. When you keep them safe you are showing them the utmost care.

As a quality coach you don’t need that huge rush either. It’s cheap and dangerous. Strive to master your craft. Focus on the quiet satisfaction of great teaching — of helping people experience joy on their bikes. Above all, keep them physically and emotionally safe.

You can do this. If you want help, just ask.

To students

You don’t need to ride some crazy feature or “conquer” a trail to be great. You are great. You are you, somewhere along your mountain biking path. I can say from 40 years of MTB experience that pushing hard “to get better” is dissatisfying, limiting and dangerous. Especially when you trust the wrong people.

Do you know what’s satisfying, limitless and safe? Becoming your own best riding partner. Make sure your bike fits you. Ride with people who make you happy, on trails that bring joy rather than stress.

If you seek coaching, find a coach who “gets” you. A coach whose methods make logical sense, and who demonstrates utmost care for your physical and emotional safety. Your ideal coach helps you experience immense joy with every little win — and empowers you to do it on your own. No leash needed.

UPDATED APRIL 4. Bringing this up from the comments. It speaks to informed consent and different coaching styles.

— — —

Hi Kat, …

Based on your feedback, I’ll open this post up to public viewing and commenting. I might post it outside Substack as well. I care deeply about mountain bikers, mountain biking and the profession of mountain bike coaching. In my 20+ years doing this work I’ve seen the horrible effects of bad coaching, from injured self esteem to quadriplegia. I know and care too much not to comment on coaching practices that I believe are irresponsible and unsafe.

These discussions need to happen. So thank you again for writing.

Now that we’re talking, here are some of my thoughts:

Every woman I showed this to — from hardcore to recreational riders — saw the tether as a lopsided power dynamic. The use of a tether violates the mechanical and emotional dynamics of good, safe coaching and riding.

Mechanically: I see tether tension in the video. Even if the tether is slack, and the coach only applies tension when the rider gets out of shape, the rider is being taught to rely on the tether rather than 1) make informed go/no-go decisions and 2) correct their form on the fly. This might prevent an injury in the short term, but it does not teach effective balance/braking form.

Emotionally: No matter how “non-typical-MTB-bro” a coach might seem to be, the sight of a male coach using a tether to spot female riders is offensive to me and every female I showed the video to. 1) A responsible coach doesn’t create situations that require spotting, and 2) this disempowers the riders. It puts them in a situation where another person (in this case a man) is literally holding their lifeline. I went pretty far into Brian’s Instagram feed and saw no men on tethers.

If a rider is nervous or afraid to try a move, that move is not in their wheelhouse of skills. They need more *quality* reps in a less stressful situation. Based on the other clips in that promo video, it doesn’t appear riders were being taught to stay balanced on log drops, which in my classes would be a prerequisite for those steep roll-ins.

More detail: In some of those clips (see 0:10) the rider is being pulled forward over a small log drop and landing front-heavy. If that same movement pattern is used on a steep roll-in, the rider is in danger of going over the bars. If a rider doesn’t know why they are landing front-heavy on a small log drop, they can’t truly consent to the risk of a larger, steeper feature. One option is to tether the rider. The other is to make sure the rider stays balanced and safe while managing a big angle change.

Paraphrasing: Brian said he uses the tether when he feels there’s a risk a rider can get into trouble. If I feel there’s a chance a rider might get into trouble in a section, the rider never sees that section. It’s simply not part of the class. If I know a rider is ready but I see body tension I say, No, it’s not time to ride this yet. I then help the rider get to an emphatic yes or no. Both are celebrated equally.

When a rider knows intuitively that they are ready, I see a soft body and fluid movements. These reps are always clean and safe.

Involuntary body tension is an external sign of intense nervousness/fear. The rider might be overstimulated, caught in peer pressure, or trying to impress the coach. It’s the coach’s job to recognize that tension and say No, it’s not time to ride this yet. In that video I saw a lot of body tension while riders were riding sections. I would never put riders in that situation.

I said, “Astell seems like a ‘cool bro’ who believes he’s doing good work”. In the video he sent he seems to have a mellow, earnest way about him, and I think he believes he’s doing the right thing. I didn’t characterize him nor attack him as a person. I commented specifically on the tethering practice.

I understand, too, that no matter how well intentioned I am, I, like Brian, am a product of this patriarchal culture. Once in a while I’ll think I’m being helpful, but my partner will call me out, saying I’ve crossed a line. I feel Brian has accidentally crossed a line here.

I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to the “typical mountain bike bros.” I’ve seen some truly awful coaching and heard some crazy stories. This is why I comment on coaching I believe is unsafe. I know and care too much.

You’re absolutely right that we can have different opinions on the practice of spotting riders, with or without tethers. To simplify a complex subject, let’s boil MTB skills coaching into two categories.

A. The coach holds the tether.

The coach takes riders through a series of moves on challenging terrain. Some of the riders are permitted to land front-heavy on small log drops, without correction. The class encounters a steep roll-in. Rider 1 is intuitively confident and rides the section smoothly. Rider 2 is visibly tense but feels pressure to try. The coach fastens a tether to the rider’s pack. A sample of outcomes starts at 0:20.

B. The rider holds the tether.

The coach takes riders through a series of moves on easy terrain with intense focus on balance, safety and internal awareness. The coach increases challenge gradually, so the rider doesn’t feel stress or fear. The coach teaches the riders how to make informed go/no-go choices. The class encounters a challenging feature. Rider 1 decides to ride the section and does it smoothly. Yay! Rider 2 decides not to ride the section today. Same yay!

I am a B-style coach. I give riders the tools to become their own best riding partner and coach. If you prefer an A-style coach, that’s your choice. I wish you fun, safe riding.

Thank you again for the feedback. I’ve opened this post for public viewing and commenting.

Lee

What do y’all think?

Lee

As adjunct professor of mountain biking, I’m developing an accredited college program for mountain bike coaching at Colorado Mountain College in Steamboat Springs, CO. This will be a complete, scientifically backed education: anatomy, physiology, physics, psychology, bike design, trail design, ethics, coaching as a business, how to ride, and how to teach.

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It seems like quality coaching — and youth rider safety — should be take seriously. Does anyone else see it that way?

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By Lee McCormack

Hello, friends. This article is more serious than usual. As a mountain biker for 36 years and a professional mountain bike communicator and teacher for 22 years, I see much beauty in our beloved sport, and I also see some ugliness that must be addressed. We are a community of people seeking health and joy. I offer this and future articles in the hopes we create a culture that’s as healthy and joyful as possible.

In my work as a mountain bike skills teacher, I’ve trained more than 10,000 riders and about 2000 coaches. I trained a handful of coaches to work with me. I trained the rest to work as volunteers in various local, state, regional and national youth mountain bike programs.

As a person who has benefited greatly from mountain biking, I want as many people as possible to experience the joy of safe riding. For that reason, I have put significant time and heart into training volunteer coaches.

When I was giving big presentations I jumped up and down and screamed about the importance of safety. I proposed that there are safe ways to teach mountain bike skills. There are steps, assessments and best practices that, when followed, provide the best chance at riders enjoying themselves and not getting hurt.

Accidents will happen, but we can minimize the chances of calamity. I’ve devised a program to safely teach people to ride mountain bikes. This is one reason I’ve never had to file an incident report or insurance claim for an injured rider. The other reason is I am massively committed to safety; I’d rather you hate me for not letting you hit some jump than allow you to get hurt on my watch. That is part of being a professional mountain bike skills coach. I must protect rider safety above all else.

To the volunteer coaches, I said, imagine the worst-case scenario: That a kid gets hurt on your watch. There’s no way to reduce the pain that will be brought to any living, breathing coach. Then I said imagine being deposed by shark lawyers. They’re going to ask you about your organization’s best practices and what specific protocols your program uses to ensure safety. If there are no protocols that meet industry best practices, you might be in trouble. If there are protocols and you don’t follow them, you might be in trouble.

I told the volunteers, even if you’re not personally legally or financially responsible, if you endanger kids because you’re willfully ignorant and lazy, you are ethically responsible. If you decide to be a mountain bike coach, you must make reasonable efforts to ensure safety or at least not increase risk. If you can’t commit to that effort, don’t do it

For the most part, all I got were yawns and, “Come on, man, it’s just biking.” My hardcoreness made me a bad fit for these organizations. Years after I was released as head coach for a big program, I was contacted by a professor of sports medicine at the University of Utah Orthopaedic Center. He was tasked with finding out why high school mountain biking injury rates were so high. He wrote, “Our first three years of data collection indicate that a lot of crashes are associated with some level of mismatch between rider skill relative to terrain and/or speed. If this is true, then better skills training is surely a key to injury prevention (and improved race times).”

Programs like NICA have a limited ability to manage safety because they are relying on volunteers to teach a potentially dangerous sport. NICA now offers two trainings for its coaches. On-The-Bike 101 is an online classroom session followed by three hours of training on the bike. On-The-Bike 202 is a five-hour in-person training. Both include a digital manual and a coaching field guide. I’m sure some wonderful people are doing their best to help the kids, but eight hours of training (or even a weekend class) does not create a qualified mountain bike skills coach.

I need to be clear here: If you’re a volunteer coach, thank you. That’s wonderful. If you’re being tasked with managing the safety of kids, you should be trained properly — and you should be paid. This way you can dedicate the time needed to build your coaching skills, and the league can hold you accountable for quality.

My loud warnings about safe mountain bike coaching were always theoretical for me—until now. What follows is a sad and troubling story. As an expert witness on this case, I helped the family secure a settlement to take care of their son for the rest of his life.

THE FACTS

Singletrack Mountain Bike Adventures (SMBA) is a youth mountain bike program in Boulder, Colorado. I ran their gravity program 20 years ago. Today, SMBA offers a wide variety of programs for young mountain bike riders. This is a paid program. Parents drop kids off in the morning and expect to pick up stoked kids in the afternoon.

The emotions are coming back up, so I’m gonna make this terse: A young man named Kevin was part of a group of teen riders.

Their coach took them to ride a bootleg downhill trail outside Nederland, Colorado. When Kevin’s dad took me to see the trail, we had to grind up a steep, difficult climb, then carry our bikes over some logs to the start of the trail. This trail was so steep and raw, I was flabbergasted.

Kevin said he was afraid of this trail and didn’t want to ride it. He was overridden.

Kevin said there was no formal skills instruction or assessments to make sure he was ready for such a trail. No training in how to brake. No training in how to turn. No training in how to manage bumps. No training in how to gauge speed. No training in how to pick lines. No training.

The coach told the kids to turn on Strava so they can compare times at the bottom.

Kevin was riding an XC race bike with a long/low cockpit and XC tires that did not provide great bike control. This did not directly cause the crash, but it certainly hurt his comfort and confidence.

The group took off in pursuit of fast Strava times, leaving Kevin in the dust, with the coach riding sweep behind him.

A section of trail rolled down the fall line, over a water bar, then dropped steeply into a series of turns around trees. The ground was loose, rutted and rooty.

From evidence and experience, I posit Kevin was afraid, tense, too high and too far back on his bike. When he hit the water bar, he got catapulted over the handlebars, down the slope and into a tree.

Kevin is now a quadriplegic. He’s a positive and strong kid, but his life and that of his family have been irrevocably altered.

MISTAKES WERE MADE

Let’s count the big ones:

Bike selection and setup. Parents are not qualified to know all about mountain bike fit and setup, nor should they have to be. It’s the responsibility of the coaching program to advise the riders and their families—and to maintain sensible standards that match the terrain the kids will be riding.

Lack of protocols for skills development and safety. I asked every which way, and the answer was always the same: there was no formal skills instruction, nor were there assessments to match riders with terrain.

Trail selection was awful. I can’t see taking any student on a trail like that. If I had to, for some reason, I’d make sure the student can execute all of the individual moves in a clean environment, then make sure the student can maintain confidence under stress and, most important, make sure the student wants to ride this trail.

Competitiveness. Telling teen boys to turn on Strava and pin it down a steep, loose downhill trail? Come on.

Poor ride management. If Kevin was to be taken down that trail, a coach should have stayed with him and encouraged him to walk the sections he was afraid to ride. A great coach might have made him feel so safe, so taken care of, that Kevin would have had a great time no matter which parts of the trail he rode. Instead, Kevin was left by himself while the adult coach rode well behind (perhaps so he could get his own clean run).

If there’s only one coach, the coach should have told Kevin to walk any section he doesn’t want to ride. It’s essential that the coach celebrates the “no” decisions as much as the “yes” decisions.

ADVICE FOR PARENTS

Hire a coach or coaching company who values rider safety, not just in words but in real practice. Ask about protocols for instruction and safety. Ask how these protocols are conveyed to coaches. Ask about their insurance and claim history. If you hear the buzzword “progression,” ask for specific examples.

Find out who the coaches are. What is their training and experience? What is their age and level of maturity? How much are they paid? Do you trust these people with the safety of your children? If there is a protocol, are they capable of administering it? Is there strong oversight from the top of the organization all the way to the trail?

Make sure your kid is on a bike that fits 1) their body size and level of mobility (teen boys tend to be tight, so they need shorter/taller cockpits), and 2) the trails they plan to ride. Don’t waste money on fancy, expensive stuff. Just make sure the bike fits properly, and optimize it for safety. This means dropper posts (or a quick-release lever), flat pedals and grippy tires. Check the fit as the kid grows. A bike can grow with slightly longer stems and taller bars.

Consider hiring a professional coach to teach your kid how to ride safely. While I’ve seen a few great volunteer coaches, for the most part relying on volunteers and low-paid coaches to teach a dangerous sport is a bad idea. I believe volunteers should focus on creating a positive culture and taking kids on rides that match their abilities. Let a professional help with bike fit, fitness, riding skills and, most important, empowering kids to assert themselves and say no when they don’t feel safe.

Do your best to create an environment in which your kid tells you how it’s going out there. I was so proud of two of my young students. The sister/brother were with another coaching program who was telling them to do stuff they didn’t want to do. These kids said we are not doing this and called their grandmother to pick them up. Grandma supported them 100 percent. These kids are happily riding today.

If you want your kids to ride mountain bikes and you want them to be safe and learn useful life skills, demand that they work with qualified coaches. Be prepared to pay professional pay rates.

What is a professional pay rate? According to Indeed, McDonald’s crew members in Colorado get paid $19–$23 per hour. It’s common for mountain bike coaches to earn about $20 per hour (to teach a dangerous sport!). There are plenty of mountain bike coaches in the $30–$50-per-hour range. I earn more than $200 per hour. As a parent, you can decide what price point keeps your kids safe enough.

Imagine how you’ll feel if your kid gets hurt by unsafe instruction. I see how this has affected Kevin’s dad. It’s heartbreaking.

ADVICE FOR COACHES AND COACHING PROGRAMS

More parents and adult riders are gonna realize getting hurt is not “part of the sport.” They will sue. They will establish precedent. The world of mountain bike skills coaching will be forced to grow up. I suggest we step it up on our own rather than wait to be regulated.

Become a professional. Learn about bike-riding dynamics, including bike fit, setup and sports psychology. Craft yourself into a master teacher. Put rider safety, both physical and emotional, above all else. You can only teach to the level you’ve achieved as a rider and human. Continually improve yourself.

Charge a professional rate. Parents expect to pay a premium for soccer, ballet, swim and gymnastics coaching, but they expect mountain bike coaching to be free or cheap. Right now on Indeed.com, I see the following listings:

—Private basketball or track and field coach. Athletes Untapped, Denver, CO. $35–$200 per hour.

—Mountain bike coach/instructor. Powderhorn Mountain Resort, Mesa, CO. $17.50 per hour.

If you’re earning $17.50 per hour, how much can you be expected to do? Not much. This is one reason there are so few highly skilled, highly qualified professional mountain bike skills coaches.

If you decide to become a professional mountain bike skills instructor, craft yourself into a professional, then demand professional pay. The stakes are too high to fool around. If you’re not willing to take this seriously, don’t do it.

I’m not gonna point out problems without providing solutions. Check out the certification programs from the Professional Mountain Bike Instructor Association (PMBIA) and Bike Instructor Certification Program (BICP). If you want me to provide industry best practices for your company, or you simply want you and your kids to learn how to ride safely, reach out to me at my website.

This wasn’t the most fun article I’ve written for MBA, but it’s the most important. Right now thousands of young people who grew up in youth mountain bike programs are enjoying mountain biking as part of a healthy, joyful lifestyle. Some, like Haley Batten, are crushing World Cups and medaling at the Olympics. She came up in the Park City, Utah, high school team. I’m proud to have helped her dial in her form, but I’m happiest to see her having fun.

Please have fun out there and keep your people safe.

What Does SMBA Say?

Before I wrote this piece, I e-mailed the director of SMBA, Matt Tomasko, to give him a chance to make a statement. I was hoping he’d say this tragedy inspired a retooling of how they conduct their work, and that they’ve instituted safe practices. Here is his reply to my e-mail: “Yes, an extremely unfortunate incident that we reflect on a daily basis, which could happen with any organization, individual, or professional colleague.”

When we got on the phone, he led with excitement that his SMBA riders all podiumed at Nationals. What? You know why I’m calling. A kid lives in a wheelchair and you’re boasting about race results?

I gave Tomasko a week to send me a more complete statement. No statement was sent.

— — —

What do y’all think?

Lee

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Last weekend with Molly:

Working huge shapes under stress

Goals: Make jumps feel normal, dial in pumping form, do it all while gassed.

Location: Snobahn indoor facility, Thornton, CO

Bike: Mistress NoWukkas hardtail size M1 (Molly is 5’2”)

Protocol: Roll in, jump three jumps, 180 off the quarter pipe, pump all the way back up (this is bad ass!), 5 squat thrusts, do it again. Maintain form.

Making Sea Otter DH feel easy

Goals: Pump for longer than our expected Sea Otter DH times, practice smooth speed in the anaerobic hellscape.

Location: Neighborhood pump track in Broomfield, CO

Bikes: Molly on her Mistress hardtail. Me on my Dialed PumpCycle.

Protocol: Ride hard for 2.5 minutes. Trade laps. 10 efforts each. We both rode better as we got tired and the wind came up. This got juicy!

Here are our last sets. They felt faster than they look!

Molly. “I feel like a Jello pudding pop.” In this session switching the lead foot (inside foot forward in each loop) became completely normal. Riding so hard you can’t think for the win!

Me. “I’m narrowing grip but widening focus maaannn.” :) Narrower grip = more pull strength. Wider focus = smoother, more subconscious riding.

I look thicker! For many years I held my weight near 160lbs so, I suppose, I could look and feel like a “cyclist.” Now I’m 190 closing on 195. This is how my body wants to be: a pumptracking DH beast!!

Find your joy, whatever it is, then share it,

Lee

As you might know, fun happens at the intersection of challenge and skill. Today I found the sweet spot on the Whale Tail at Valmont Bike Park.

BONUS CONTENT IN THE RECORDING:

Valmont Bike Park has been open for three summers, and for three summers I’ve been avoiding the Whale Tail. The Whale Tail is the third jump on the XL slopestyle line, and it’s the marquee feature at the park: a big wooden lip, a gap of doom, then a tall wooden landing that transitions into a lip that sends you into a sweet dirt backside.

The Whale Tail is big and scary, but it’s built right. Dialed riders turn it into a sine wave of love. Less dialed riders hit it all kinds of wrong and still survive. But I’m not looking to merely survive: I want it to be perfect. Getting hurt sucks, and it’s bad for business.

So I’ve been working my way through Valmont’s jumps at my own pace — no hucking myself into the void, no guessing, no getting hurt — and I’ve been in no hurry to go all Captain Ahab. I’ve dialed in the XL dirt jumps and the XL slopestyle, but I’ve been riding around the Whale. Everyone’s been telling me to go for it, I’ll be fine. I know the math, and I know how to ride a bike, but I haven’t felt the drive.

Until this summer. Something in me started saying it’s time. I started telling people I want to hit it. Not today necessarily, but some day — when it feels right. I’ve done bigger and more technical jumps. I’ve pumped tens of thousands of rollers. My Shimano/Fox Stumpjumper 29 is a fantastic bike. I know what I’m doing. When it feels right, I’ll do it perfectly. Until then, no thanks.

Last night I decided today would be the day. I texted Judd Zimmerman, who is in Boulder for Lee Likes Bikes coach training and who is pushing his own boundaries, and told him I plan to ride the Whale Tail, and he should hold me to it. (Judd, thanks for the videos!)

On the first few tries I nailed the first two jumps, felt my stomach tighten and … rolled around the Whale Tail like always.

Grr.

Here is my rule: If something feels clean and good, I go for it it and generally do it pretty well. If I feel a stress response — a tight stomach, tense muscles, a question mark, my mind going blank — I know a bad habit might come out of the vault, and I abort.

I started looking through the wood to where I want to land, and I imagined what the landing will feel like. Finally, I approached the takeoff and there was no stress response — but I aborted anyway.

“@#&%!”

I’m totally OK with not doing something because I’m not ready or don’t want it, but if I’m ready and want this thing, and I still wimp out, that’s not OK. I know what to do. As I pedaled up the hill I made the decision: this is the one.

Right after I flipped that switch, I started crying. It wasn’t pain or fear or even joy. This big ball of chi, love power, kung fu power, whatever, has been building up, and the catharsis was already happening. OK dude, after you nail this thing, you can cry all you want.

I topped out on the hill, dropped my Command Post and went click click click click with the XTR shifter. Local shredder and LLB assistant coach Dustin Zeis was watching: “Are you gonna hit it?” He was excited for me. I held up my hand. Wait a sec.

Pedal pedal, pump the entrance berm, first jump perfect, second jump perfect. Look through the wood to the landing and … nailed it. Heavy on the lip — enough to bottom the fork — huge weightlessness, pumped the wooden transition and flew to dirt. Rolled into the grass, laid my bike down, got on my hands and knees and let it out. A full, deep cry with tears and sobbing and the whole thing, a complete release of the love that inspires me and the demons that drive me. I gathered it up, rolled back up the hill and nailed it nine more times.

That feeling of clarity, oh man. So pure, so right. I recently helped a skills client experience the same inner victory. She was embarrassed, but I told her:

At the intersection of what you can do and what you need to do, at the sweet spot of your physical, mental and emotional capabilities, that’s the most real and the most important place you can be. Everything else is practice.

Bikes are rad. I am so thankful that they found me, and I appreciate the support from my friends, who know I can do more than I think I can.

Let’s shred!

Lee

Hi all,

Our friend Michael sent me a cool note:

Hi Lee,

PinkBike article on speed gain potential for 32 over 29.

The comment by William42 is the real jackpot on the page though, and while the whole thing is great and worth the read, it’s summed up by this quote:

Fun is hard to measure and quantify though. And faster is better makes for a more pithy marketing slogan.

https://www.pinkbike.com/news/are-bigger-wheels-actually-faster-what-the-science-says.html

I appreciate what you are doing — although it is out of reach for me in my current jobless state — and the gems that occasionally filter through to free tier.

Michael

Hi Michael,

Thanks for writing. I thought the same thing when I saw that article. I also thought about all the possible flaws in the “science,” but that’s another post.

Faster is so easy to quantify. So easy to sell. So easy to make people feel better for a fleeting moment … then they need 36 inch wheels, or less fork offset, or radial tires, or whatever.

What’s funny is that every rider, no matter how type A, how image driven, once you cut through the distractions and armor, we all want the same things: fun, flow and peace. This culture and the MTB industry keep people thinking they’re not good enough, that they need the next fancy thing, etc blah bullshit.

I’ve participated in plenty of that, trust me. These days I dial in my and my clients’ bikes, then we forget about them. We focus on mastery of our bodies and minds. We create a culture of grateful growth. We train hard and smart, and we have ridiculous fun. Faster is an interesting side effect.

In the past couple weeks I’ve put two badass women on custom bikes. Both are simple 27.5” steel hardtails with geo *perfectly* tuned to each rider.

These shredders were already good. Now they ride without worry, without hesitation. Drops, jumps, sprints, and corners all rallied. Molly nabbed a QOM on our local blue descent and Megan is right behind her. On the same ride I grabbed a KOM on my simple steel bike. BTW I’m 56 and my fellow Joyriders are 45.

Megan said:

“Having a bike that fits you helps you ride like you can imagine you can.”

YES!! It makes me so happy.

Fancy new bike stuff is exciting, but you’ll get a lot more from dialing in a simple bike that fits you, learning to ride it, then having fun with like-minded people.

Lee

Speaking of bike fit, check out Dialed v2: The definitive guide to dynamic mountain bike fit. The book includes access to my online school, where you can learn to ride your dialed bike.

PS: You now have full access to this Substack channel. Thank you for bringing this up!

— — —

Photo: Molly sends her Mistress NoWukkas. Photo by Megan Wright.

June 14, 2023

Lee,

Thanks so much for all your work this year for NEYC. Also, hope your shoulder surgery recovery is going well.

Do you have suggestions or ideas about how to coach navigating a trail / how to ride a new place? Some of my coaches are experienced mountain bikers but relatively new to coaching.

Josh

Hi Josh,

You are welcome. And thank you: My shoulders are great.

Yes I do have suggestions! I use these principles when I take riders on trails. This way everyone has fun and stays safe.

Read more

As part of my service to humankind, I work with high-functioning people with two goals:

1. Improve their riding. Intense people tend to crave intense experiences, but they can’t be presenting to heads of state with their arms in a sling or parenting children from a hospital bed, so I teach them how to scale their riding experience without incurring risk.

2. Help improve their lives. These folks are drawn to riding for a variety of reasons. There’s the thrill of doing exciting stuff, the satisfaction of building mastery and, most important, the breadth of flow and the depth of peace. The fundamental systems that transcend time, space and self don’t know what we’re doing today. When we learn to “ride our inner waves” on the bike, we can ride them off the bike.

Last weekend I traveled to work with a platinum shredder we’ll call Greg. The whole experience was pretty slick: Fly in, rent a car, borrow his spare bikes, play the role of shred guru, fly home. I’m writing this from the airport.

Day 1 - Jumping on a Levo SL gen 2

While we’ve been working Greg’s core skills for almost a year, I’ve also been managing his daily on- and off-bike training. He’s getting very fit and very skilled. The current hole in the program is jumping, so we met at a local DJ spot.

I wiped cobwebs off his daughter’s S1 Levo SL gen 2, set sag, slapped on my 20-year-old SPDs, left the motor off and politely rode the heck out of that little bike. It was just slightly RAD+ for me, with a heavy mass in the middle, and dang that bike rips!

In one hour Greg went from competent to masterful … and then to artful. He was flowing more fluidly than the kids out there.

“I feel so free!” he says.

“Yes! Keep going! Get the reps!!” I say as I let a few tears flow. To help another human touch this space, this is beautiful shit and the core of my mission.

Fist bump and more reps.

After lunch we did a big climb then ripped down a jumpy ridge. He flowed like a shred god — sight-sending big doubles so smoothly I didn’t know they had gaps until I saw them through his dust.

Day 2 - Trail riding on an S-Works Levo gen 4

He was riding something we can’t buy yet. I was on his spare S-Works Levo gen 4 with top-tier RockShox coil shock and a coiled Lyrik. No need to set sag. Slap on my pedals and get after it.

I’ve ridden almost every generation of Stumpjumper and Enduro since 2002 (Specialized sponsored me), and I’ve ridden every iteration of the Levo and Levo SL. Over the years I’ve said “oh man, this is it, bikes will never get better than this,” but they keep getting better.

The gen 4 Levo is what they say it is. The power is smooth and quiet. There were many moments when I forgot I was on a ebike.

That heavy motor and battery in the belly of the frame, plus coil suspension and the new Butcher tires with DH casings make the bike so damn good on the downhills. We were riding loose-over-hardpack trails with proper-serious rocks, real-deal steeps, and intricate turns. With my powerful-yet-graceful/aggressive-yet-safe riding style, that bike did it all perfectly — and way within my abilities, which is key because my risk tolerance is zero.

Blast through some chunder? Sure.

Boost a 6-inch lip 20 feet to backside? Hold my beer.

Snap-hop between tight turns? Watch this bruh!

Plunge down the fall line into a loose catch berm? Whatever.

Wow. That bike turns random violence into smooth waves.

On descent 1 Greg rode great, but he was letting the bike do most of the work. He’s better than that. On climb 2 I told him to actively work every shape he sees. Lap 2 was somewhere between masterful and artful. Dude was using little rocks to jump sideways, then land-pumping sandy corners. BRAAAP! His subconscious was mixing the fundamental skills we’ve been drilling to create new solutions on the fly! So good!

Half way down he stopped. His eyes were big and soft. His energy, often a crashing waterfall, felt like a rolling sea.

“It feels so …,” he paused, “… flowy and peaceful.”

“Yes sir.” Fist bump.

We rallied the rest of that descent, letting those fancy bikes handle the trail waves while we rode our inner waves.

Have fun out there,

Lee

I have some shredder spots available for the right people. If you’re interested, learn more here and reach out to me.

Psychologists say that 3/4 of our thoughts are negative, repetitive or both. I think the number is higher for many of us.

I often ask self-critical students this question:

“If someone talked to you the way you talk to yourself, would you hang out with that person?”

Awkward pause then a slow sideways head shake.

I sure hope not.

1) Hearing constant criticism is no fun. Especially from inside your own head.

2) Every time you talk smack on yourself, that’s a rep. Every rep increases your skill at making yourself feel bad. “I’m world class at hating myself!” “I’m awesome at feeling shitty!”

I meant that as a joke, but it’s a direct hit isn’t it? We’ve all seen people one-upping each other over how much their rides or jobs or lives suck. I’ve been that person. How did we decide that the more we over-work and struggle and suffer, the better we are? Let’s un-decide that.

3) If you encounter the wrong type of person, when they say terrible things to you, you believe them. You might consciously say “that’s crazy,” but the messages land inside the part of you that says the same things, and you believe the bad person. Then you’re in danger of entangling with them, and then you’ll have real problems to complain about.

Many of us are our own worst riding partners. We constantly nay-say and talk smack and bring up old mistakes, both real and imagined. This of course happens in all areas of life. If you self flagellate on your bike, you’ll do it on dates and at work. And vice versa.

You gotta make yourself your own best riding partner. And date. And co-worker.

This is a full-time, long-term project. Start here:

Zero tolerance. Realize that saying a bad thing about yourself is the same sin as thinking it. In my world, sin isn’t a violation of some arbitrary law that says you can’t eat meat on certain Fridays; you sin whenever you think or say or allow anything that goes against your highest good. Yeah, sit on that one.

Arrest and replace. Every time a negative thought crosses your mind, stop it. Say “that isn’t true” then replace it with something true and positive. When I realized I’d lost my mind and started this process, I got 200 reps a day. Then 180. 160. 120. 80. 30. Now almost zero. Thinking and talking positively about yourself is a skill! Get your reps.

Here’s an on-bike example:

Bad thought: I suck at cornering. The front wheel always washes out.

Better: I’m getting better and better at cornering.

Best: As long as I stay centered and load the bike, the front wheel can’t wash out in turns. I’m a master of loading my bike in perfect balance, and I freaking love to corner!

Here’s an off-bike example.

Bad: I suck.

Better: I don’t suck. I’m good at this thing.

Best: Not only do I not suck, I am a spirit warrior doing the hardest work there is – cleaning up my self talk until I fully believe the truth of my radness. Once I get that dialed, I have beautiful and helpful things to do.

(Ha, here I am doing it!)

Why do you talk shit on yourself?

Talking shit on yourself is such a nasty habit. But it’s a common habit.

It’s socially acceptable. Civilians tend to feel better when bright people dim themselves. It makes it easier for them to feel less threatened by you. Humility is a beautiful thing; putting yourself down is not.

I was recently talking to my buddy at a big bike company about an experimental bike I was building. I told him it’ll get a lot of attention and some hate, but that’s OK. He said “You’re just so damn smart, people in the bike industry are intimidated by you. Even when you dumb things down, it isn’t dumb enough.” You know what? It’s not my job to diminish myself so some low self efficacy dummy can feel OK about himself. No more.

You don’t want to sound like an asshole. Civilians tend to judge confidence harshly. I think it’s because they can’t see themselves as that confident, and your confidence makes them feel inferior. If you’re simply stating your truth — ”I’m fast when I ride my mountain bike in loose corners” or “I’m great at dancing” — and someone feels bad, that’s on them. Just be sure you’re not saying “I’m way better at cornering and dancing than you are.”

This might be an even bigger issue for women talking to men. My Queen E is a polymath genius and a general badass. She is smarter than most, and she knows things, and she shares her perspectives openly. Most men can’t handle it.

It’s an easy way to get a laugh. There’s nothing like ye olde self deprecating joke to release some tension and make people feel at ease. If you’re actually funny, work harder. Don’t make people laugh at your expense. Shit, never let people laugh at your expense.

How often do I talk shit on myself?

One day one of the coaches who worked with me and I were driving to our rental house in Bentonville, AR after teaching and filming with Outside TV. Conversation turned to the Joyride rules. I asked him how often I self deprecate in class.

He said, “In a full day, 18-20 times.”

“What?!!!?” I was flabbergasted.

“You’re so good people don’t mind,” my partner said, “but you make a lot of little comments that put yourself down.”

Wow.

As I went to sleep, I talked to that diminished little boy who, no matter how great I became, still didn’t believe it. The part that learned to talk himself down before someone else could.

“Hey man,” I said. “Thank you for your work. You’ve kept me safe all these years and taught me how to function in society. Starting tomorrow I’m doing things differently. Take a break. Go fishing.”

I felt an immediate release of tension.

Ahhhhh … that was easy.

A few minutes later, my stomach tightened, my heart raced and my jaw clenched.

“Ah ha!” I said, “I know what you’re doing. You’ve had the reins for 40 years. I don’t expect you to give up easily. Tomorrow I’m on TV, and I need to be handsome and sharp and funny, but I’m infinite so if you want to keep me awake all night, have at it. I’m not afraid any more. Tomorrow will be different. Collect all your shit and get out of here by dawn.”

My body screamed in pain. I said “That’s cute, what else ya got?”

Then all went quiet and I went to sleep.

The next day I delivered a killer performance as a rider, coach, comedian and proto-guru. On the way home I asked my partner how many times I talked shit on myself.

“Once or twice, but it was so subtle I barely noticed.”

I’m saying this again. If you can develop the habit of saying terrible things about yourself, you can develop the habit of not doing that. Or, even better, doing the opposite.

Share this with someone who needs it.

I feel great about sharing this.

Lee

How many times has someone paid you a complement, then you said “Naw, not really” or “No, I’m no good”?

I swear, many people would feel more comfortable if I said “You’re worthless and weak!!” than when I say “You’re doing a great job.” They just aren’t used to hearing genuine compliments, and they’re certainly not used to accepting them.

A couple summers ago I was teaching a full-day class for riders over 50 years old. “Over 50” was code for “not a dumbass.” One guy, we’ll call him John, drove from southern Texas to Boulder, CO – 20 hours including hailstorms! — to spend the day with me.

I drive a hella badass red Nissan Titan Pro-4X truck. This thing has a macho bed rack, Lee Likes Bike pink/yellow/blue branding and a rainbow unicorn lashed to the grille. Before class John said “You can’t have that on your truck!”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because. You just can’t have a unicorn on a truck.”

“What should I have on there?” I asked. “A skull and crossbones?”

“Yeah. Something more like that.”

“You know man,” I said. “I’ve decided that I will not waste one more day not being me. I love that unicorn. Plus, I’m running a 5.6 liter 400 horsepower naturally aspirated V8 — the most powerful stock engine in the class.”

The engine part seemed to calm him down.

They stole my unicorn, so I upgraded to an alicorn. (Alicorn = winged unicorn.)

John is the classic high achieving macho alpha bro. He’s good looking. He had a killer career as a prosecutor. Now he’s retired and focusing on taking care of his family and himself. He truly is out of touch with his inner beauty, and he’s not used to some bro in pigtails with pink hair ties telling him how wonderful he is. I can’t tell you how many times I told him good job, but he totally deflected the compliment.

That’s like someone handing you a pearl then you saying no I don’t deserve this, then dropping it in the mud.

1. That’s no fun for either of you.

2. You can expect fewer kind words going forward.

John was displaying the inner brokenness that drove his success. He was retired from work, but he channeled the same energy into riding. People can pretend all they want, but when they get on bikes with me I see right through their false bravado, and their truth comes out. That’s why we’re there.

No matter what I said, John could not accept my positive feedback. Finally I walked up to him, switching from yin to full f***ing yang.

“You are not qualified to criticize your riding,” I growled. “That’s my job.” He bristled as they all do. “If I’m not giving you specific constructive feedback, that means you’re perfect. You’re perfect! Now go have some damn fun!”

“Yes sir,” he said, then we did some great work.

Other people do not know how shitty you feel about yourself. If they see something impressive in you and they pay you a compliment, they are being honest. They are MORE qualified to assess your outer self than you are, stuck in your own imagined failings.

So listen to them. Say thank you. You can reciprocate, but you don’t have to.

You’re LFMc

Almost 5 years ago I’d set the date and made plans for my bros to come to my house and rescue me from a bad situation.

Two weeks before the big day, I was out shooting a Joy of Bike video with my buddy Alex. I told him I knew this was the right thing to do, the only way for me to survive, but I was terrified.

He said, “You can’t see it because you’re stuck in there. But we all see it. You’re Lee Fucking McCormack.”

Lee. Fucking. McCormack.

Yeah! I believed it. And it gave me strength.

Try this: Swap out your middle initial with a big fat capital F and see how that feels!

Every time you accept a compliment, you practice the skill of accepting your goodness and validity. The more you do this, the better.

“Bro, when you loaded your pedals, your bike really hooked up in that corner.”

“Thanks Bro! I love cornering, and I’m getting really good at it.”

See how that works? :)

Please pass it along so someone who needs it.

You’re awesome.

Lee

That was great. Can you do it under race pressure?

I dedicated much of my life to becoming the most badass mountain bike gravity racer I could be. That journey dominated me for a solid 10 years, from age 25 to about 35. At the time I was working full time plus as an infographics artist/art director at a daily newspaper, then a UI/UX designer, usability person and marketing hack at a big dot com.

When I was at the newspaper in 1997, the town of Grand Forks, ND flooded then burned down (Yeah, that’s what happens. The gas lines rupture then it’s a waterlogged yet fiery hellscape). My paper was owned by a big national newspaper chain. Per their commitment to publishing the Grand Forks Herald for the displaced citizens, Knight-Ridder called in all the badasses from around the country. I was one of them.

I did nothing fancy. I just did my job the best I could. Every other artist spent his time making a full page infographic for his portfolio. Me, I set up basic charts for water level (super important info in a flooded town), where to bring your waterlogged sofa, etc.

As a team, we won the Pulitzer Prize for public service. I was 28 years old, already a department head with a PULITZER, and I was feeling like quite the special human.

When the certificate came to my house, they misspelled my name! McCormick instead of McCormack. Misspelling a name the cardinal sin in journalism, but I never got it fixed. I’ve always said that’s because it kept me humble, but the real reason was I didn’t give a flat f*** about the award, and I didn’t think I deserved it. All I wanted to do was ride bikes really fast.

Back then I was offered prestigious jobs at major newspapers and a big news agency in Washington, DC. I’d say no thank you, I have to win a national downhill race. That’s how committed I was. On hindsight I’d use the word addicted. Mountain biking had become my main way of coping with the darkness I didn’t yet understand and still feared.

At the time in my life, despite my success at work and the beautiful house and beautiful wife (Well, how did I get here?), I felt like shit most of the time. The only times I felt OK were when I did something impossible at work, or when I was hurtling at full speed on a bicycle or motorcycle. I designed my life around giving me the neurochemical and ego doses I needed to get by.

To give you a sense of how arbitrary all of this is, at one point the entire meaning of my life was to be the fastest guy in a Sport 25-29 class at our local mountain bike races. Back then the classes went Beginner, Sport, Expert, Semipro then Pro.

So there I was in my late 20s fighting for dominance in a class of working bros in the second-slowest class in a very small local race series. On any given day, a few of us were able to win. If I did everything right, and the other guys made a mistake, I would win. But it wasn’t guaranteed.

I fancied myself the fittest and smartest of the crew, but not the most skilled nor the manliest. To be honest, I felt threatened by some of the bros’ physical size and dumb bravado. So I leaned into my intellect, and Race Day Lee was born.

Race Day Lee would do anything for that plastic medal, including ruining a perfectly nice man’s day. One of my main enemies was a bro named Lance. When his Dungeons and Dragons character was being made, he rolled an 18 for strength, an 18 for athleticism and a 3 for intelligence. Back then I was thinking too much. He wasn’t thinking at all … and it made him more effective on the race course.

So I went to war against Lance using my core competency. One day we were at a dual slalom race. In this discipline, you race head to head on parallel tracks with turns and jumps. When you pass one round, you race the next fastest guy and on and on until the two fastest meet for the championship. This was usually Lance and me.

On this day he looked great in practice. I mean, really smooth and fast. Scarily so. If he beat me I felt like a worthless piece of shit. If I beat him, I felt great. So beating him was the priority.

After practice I said “Hey Lance, you looked amazing in that section.” I gave him very specific positive feedback about his line choice, his aggression and his fluidity. It really was beautiful.

“Thanks Lee!” he beamed.

“I just wonder,” I said, “can you execute that under race pressure?”

“Huh?”

“Well you know, we usually meet at the end, and I almost always beat you. I just hope you don’t crumble under that pressure.”

“Uhhh ..” he stumbled, and I walked away.

As predicted, he and I worked through our halves of the ladder and met for the final. He started ahead of me (he had way more raw strength), and I held pace right behind him. When we got to that section I yelled “Yeah Lance! Here we go!”

He bobbled.

I didn’t.

I won.

I could tolerate myself for another week.

Becoming an asshole

That’s how it went for the early years of my racing career. It was me against the world. Everyone in my class was a threat: Not just to my placing in a bike race, but to my validity as a human — my status as a man. When I went up to Expert (now called Cat 1), competition got more intense. At that level, everyone is stronger, more skilled and more confident. You can’t mess with people the same way.

My buddies and I did the entire downhill racing series at Northstar at Tahoe, near Lake Tahoe in Northern California. Those courses are super gnarly! When racers came up from SoCal, they were terrified. I of course loved this. At the beginning of the season I acted like Race Day Lee. Everyone was a threat. I was out there to win no matter what.

I ran into one of my former rivals on a fun ride a few years ago. He said, “It’s great to see you man, and it’s awesome riding with you now. Back in the racing days, we all stayed away from you.”

Yeah, Race Day Lee was a dick.

The first part of the season sucked. I did some winning, but it was no fun, and no one gave a f***. At the end of a long day I’d accept my medal — and there was no one to celebrate with.

One day we were driving into the parking lot. I was with my buddy Curtis Keene, who was without question the man. He was a pro racer who went on to earn a Red Bull helmet, a killer YouTube series and a career just being Curtis. He was the fastest pro out there. I was the fastest non pro.

As we rolled through the lot, I began the metamorphosis from the nice guy you’d enjoy road tripping with to Race Day Lee. As we rolled past nervous downhill racers putting on their body armor, I pointed at each one. “I’m faster than you” … “I’m faster than you” … “I’m faster than you” … and so on.

Curtis, who was truly dominant, said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Becoming an ally

I don’t know where it came from, but that day something hit me. I decided that I would say something true and positive to everyone I encountered. If I saw you in practice I’d complement your cornering line — without talking smack. If I saw you in the lift line I might compliment your bike. If I saw you in the parking lot I might compliment your truck. I did that with everyone that day, and at the next race, and so on until I stopped racing.

Some powerfully cool things happened:

1. Instead of looking at everyone as a threat, I started seeing everyone as friends. Rather than measuring Lance’s biceps vs. mine and finding myself lacking, I was actively looking for something — anything — positive to say. That alone made me more positive. Every day, every moment, became pleasant. I was no longer suffering all day in hopes I would get the win.

2. Instead of avoiding me, people saw me coming and smiled. It’s pretty damn simple. If every time someone interacts with you they feel happier, they’re gonna want to interact with you. Everyone became friends and allies. And I was getting the same compliments back.

3. I raced smoother, happier and faster than ever. I was no longer worried about being perfect. Of course I was there to win. But it all felt easier and better. And my speeds increased significantly.

4. When I won a race, the other guys waited around to celebrate with me. At the very end of the season, I won the whole series. I’m tearing up right now. It was a long day on the bike, then it took hours to process the results. By the time they awarded the series prizes, it was late in the evening, and we all had huge drives to get home. But many, many people stayed around. When they announced me as the winner of the Expert Men 30-39 class, everyone cheered and clapped for me! I felt so much love.

I had no idea at the time, but this experiment laid down the foundation for the Joyride Rules.

Joyride rule 1: If you see something cool, say something

Be as positive and specific as you can.

Let’s say you and your friends are sessioning a tricky corner.

• Good: That was sweet!

• Better: Wow you exited with a ton of speed!

• Best: When you pressed into your feet I heard your tires dig in, and your bike sped up!

The best compliments reinforce the desired behavior so the recipient tends to perform that behavior. When you compliment like this, you are coaching the person to be better.

This is a powerful practice. Instead of constantly comparing yourself to your riding crew and funding yourself either superior or inferior, both of which lead to misery, you’re actively looking for the good in other people, and you’re calling attention to it. This feels great for everyone.

When you get the hang of that, it’s time to step it up.

Rule 1B:

When you do something cool, compliment yourself.

Be just as positive and specific as you are with your riding buddies, coworkers and partner. Coach yourself to do what you want to do and feel how you want to feel. I know this is hard. In this society we’ve been taught to blend in, to fit in, to diminish ourselves. No more.

I say to a self-critical student,

“If I talked to you the way you talk to yourself, would we be friends?”

“Hell no!” is the usual response.

I say, “Let’s make you your favorite riding buddy.”

Then we practice looking for good things to say about each other and ourselves. With enough practice you can corner better, jump smoother, and be kinder to yourself.

— — —

This is how I talk to myself when I ride. First practice run for masters DH worlds at Cairns, Australia 2024. One year post shoulder replacement on a prototype trail bike and stoked to be there!

Last practice run.

— — —

How’s your self talk? If I talked to you the way you do, would we be friends?

Lee

These Joyride Rules have proven very useful in MTB classes and in day to day life. I offer them to you in the spirit of shared joy.]

TL;DR here are the rules:

1. If you see something cool, say something. Be as specific as you can. If it’s you doing the cool thing, compliment yourself.

2. When you receive a compliment, you must accept it. No deflection is allowed.

3. Only positive self-talk. No self deprecation is allowed.

One weekend my team and I were in Moab, UT for a 3-day mountain bike skills camp. Moab is a bucket list destination for many mountain bikers. The trails and scenery are truly epic.

On day 2 one of my longtime clients, we’ll call him Justin, was having a transcendent day. He’s one of those highly intelligent, analytical, process oriented men who builds a successful business with his head then spends his money and time trying to get out of his head — the same head that earned him the company, income, house, truck, bikes, etc.

Funny that: Every cycle we pursue, no matter how dope it feels, must end!

I’d been working with Justin for years. If you have a mind like his, it can only let go when it knows you’ve achieved mastery. On this day Justin was ripping! We were riding down the Alaska trail in the Klondike Bluffs area north of Moab. It’s pure rocky flow-gnar. OMG it was so good! He stayed on my wheel the whole time, pure speed and flow and joy, and the rest of the group chased our pixie dust. So good!

After class my team and I were doing our usual post clinic critique. Every day I assess what went well and what we can do better. While we were stoking out about Justin, he drove up to say thank you for the great day. We congratulated him, then he drove to his hotel.

An hour later I received an email from him. “Lee, tell me the truth. Will I always suck at mountain biking? I’ve spent thousands of dollars on bikes and coaching, and I’m still not getting it.”

Ouch. I picked up the phone and gave him a call. Bottom line, his base lack of self love overwhelmed a perfect day. His story that he’s bad at riding survived despite evidence to the contrary. I pumped him up the best I could and told my co coach, “This isn’t working. I need to do something new.”

The next morning was our big graduation ride. This is a long, technical, physically demanding and emotionally challenging adventure. If I take you on this ride, I know you’re ready. I always give a firm safety speech and some inspiring words.

On this day I was excited, warmed up and ready. I must have been feeling my inner kung fu, because from my mouth came these words:

Welcome everyone! We have a powerful opportunity to create something awesome together. We will all get down this trail safely. We will all have fun. But we can experience something even more powerful if we follow these simple rules. Just do it today. If you like the rules, take them home and to work. OK? Here are the rules:

1. If you see something cool, say something. Be as specific as you can. If it’s you doing the cool thing, compliment yourself.

2. When you receive a compliment, you must accept it. No deflection is allowed.

3. Only positive self-talk. No self deprecation is allowed.

I and the coaches will model this for you. If you catch me talking smack on myself, call me on it. This is hard.

Does everyone understand?

OK! Let’s ride!

And on that day the Joyride was born. We were no longer individual egos fighting for our place in the hierarchy. We were sharing an experience, trading compliments and generating stoke. Soon we were a sine wave of love – a pod of baby porpoises porpoisefully cavorting down some of the gnarliest trails around. It was so fun! The fastest riders got faster, which is no surprise, but the slower riders got even faster, and we all finished together. Something about the Joyride made us unite emotionally and physically. Pretty awesome.

Justin had a great day. This is one of those rides where we’re hauling ass down the gnar, and one of the bros calls out “Stop!” We stop and his head is down, sobbing on his handlebars, crying the cry he’s been holding in for a decade. “Wow! We’re not just learning how to ride are we?”

No sir. The bike gets you here. It’s just the vehicle for you to experience your pure and true self.

Let’s dig deeper into the Joyride rules

Since that camp in Moab, I use the Joyride rules in every bike class, every non-bike coaching session, every corporate training and in my own life. Like all things true, the Joyride rules are simple and beautiful and powerful.

These rules get harder as you go down the list. Next week we’ll dig into Rule 1.

“Hey Lee, you did a good job writing that.”

“Thanks bro.”

See how it works? :)

Lee

What does this bring up for you? Let’s talk about it in the comments below.

Want me to coach you for and at Sea Otter? Drop a comment and I’ll follow up with you.

Namastoke,
🙏🏼🤙🏼✨

Lee