The Ride of My Life: A First-Timer Downhills

As a broadcaster, I talk a lot. I can never remember any time in my life or career that prevented me from speaking or expressing myself.

That was until I had to put on a Fox helmet for my downhill mountain bike lesson at Killington Resort.

To my surprise, the helmet was tight-fitting against my cheeks.  It should not have surprised me because seeing riders on television, I always wondered why their faces looked squeezed; it was the helmet! I always thought it was from concentrating too much, which is true for some downhill riders.

It wasn’t until I took my first tumble on the trail that I truly understood the importance of that helmet. It wasn’t just a piece of gear; it was my lifeline. It kept me safe and reminded me to listen more than I speak, a lesson I had never truly grasped. But listening when learning something new is critical.

For years, when ski season was over, some of my friends would say  Now, you must try downhill mountain biking. I thought to myself no, because it isn’t for me.

As it turns out, it is for me, and how sorry I am now for wasting all those years thinking it wasn’t.

My lesson at Killington was on a Saturday, and in the  few days leading up to it, I was anxious but excited.

I watched a YouTube video on downhill mountain biking and left feeling confused. I thought everything would be okay because I would have the best instructor from Killington and be riding in no time. It took all the two hours of lessons to get me riding, but I had the ride of my life!

Ron Austin was my instructor. Addison Craven, who also works at Killington in mountain sports, came with us on the lesson. Zach Godwin joined us from the media department to document the morning with pictures and videos, and my partner Michael Bucciero for moral support.

I had my very own loyal companions, like in the movie Lord of the Rings; instead of traveling to the land of Mordo to save Middle Earth, I only had to bike down a trail at Snowshed.

Sounds easy.

Before we left Snowshed, Ron did a bike safety check, showed us how to use the brakes and gears, and told us a few other things.

Sure, I had ridden a bike as a kid but this was different. As a kid, I sat on my seat, but in a downhill mountain bike, you stand up with the pedals level with the cranks at 3 and 9 o’clock.

It took me a while to understand that because my natural body position was used to sitting down.

I eventually overcame that and moved onto the hill that connects Snowshed and the Grand Resort. We practiced a few standing positions, shifting body weight, which later became necessary for taking berms (which are curves), in the course.

Ron would demonstrate moves, and Michael and I would follow, with Addison standing by for support or to explain what I was doing wrong or right.

When you learn something new, breaking it down into parts can be tiring because you must execute each step. But what I didn’t realize on that hill was that those steps would give me the best feeling in the world, with my companions on the side to cheer me on.

After completing the hill tasks, we moved onto a small obstacle course that had a bridge, a rock, a ramp, and a berm—all the things you will see on trails at Killington.

The sight of it made me feel uneasy, and I thought this might be a problem, but after Michael completed his ride around, it was my turn. You walk the course first before riding. I saw a big rock and told Ron I couldn’t jump over that rock, and he said to go around. But Ron, always hyping you up with a little confidence building thrown in, sent me on my way. As I set off he called “You got this, Victoria!”

With the speed of lightning, I got on the bike, and my mind said, don’t stop, keep going, and I kept going around the track. I rode over the rock, took my first berm easily, and heard the guys yelling my name as I rounded the trail. Their voices didn’t sound like four guys but rather an orchestra cheering me on.

I got off the bike feeling chills, and truth be told, I wanted to cry because I have never been cheered on in my life, not like that. Instead of crying, I sat on the ground, and as people do, we laughed, high-fived, and I relived my ride of a lifetime.

To share my accomplishment, although small, brought all of us closer together. That is how communities are built: one berm at a time, one bridge, one jump, one person encouraging you and believing you can do anything.

On that day, they believed in me.

With that pumping feeling, I finished my first downhill trail at Killington Resort. Ron took the lead; I was behind him, Michael was in the middle, and Addison rode the rear.

I jumped over more rocks, though bigger, didn’t get enough speed to cross a bridge, and wiped out, but I was still doing it. I am now one of those women I see riding, and it feels so good.

Sure, I fell three times, but that helmet was my lifeline, and for once, during my lesson I shut up and listened.

I listened to Ron explaining why it’s essential to check the trails ahead of you, Addison explaining to me that I braked too hard on one of my tumbles, Michael telling me to move up in my seat, and Zach, once it was all over, smiling and saying you did well for this being your first time.

And not the last. I am now a mountain biker.  u