My wheels whir across the fallen leaves that are still full of color from their autumnal parade: yellows, reds, oranges, and greens both below and above me. The leaves still attached to their limbs in the trees flutter and shimmer in the cool breeze.
I’m rocketing down twisting singletrack through pine trees, some wider than I am tall, needles brushing the ends of my handlebars. I’m hoping to keep from going too deep into those needles through the turns, knowing full well that...
A gusting, forty-mile an hour wind swept up through Kershaw-Ryan State Park. Its only escape from the box canyon was up and over the 700-foot cliffs that the Redemption Trail runs atop—close to the edge. And there I was, riding...